Is it too Late?
by avengergirl1306
Summary: Natasha and Clint had been partners for years. That is, until one steamy night in Budapest happened. Ever since, Clint couldn't let go of what happened, while Natasha wanted to pretend it never happened. They kept on with their lives... Two years later, Natasha found herself kidnapped during a mission and both she and Clint have to face their feelings.
1. 6 Hours (Updated)

**Hey guys! So one day I decided that I was horribly bored so I started randomly typing on my laptop. So this is officially my first real fan fiction. Ever. I wrote like, 90 pages of it in one entire day. Few weeks after I forgot I ever wrote it but I stumbled upon it while browsing my files so I re-read it and thought it was actually pretty good (at least, to me). But I gotta give you guys some heads up though:**

 **-There would be profanity on almost every single chapter**

 **-Smut, or at least mention of smut on every chapter.**

 **-One more thing I'm kind of uncomfortable writing but I did anyway was:rape. There are numerous rapes, described vividly.**

 **But overall... it's not just a porn fic. It has an actual story that progresses forward.**

 **Enjoy!**

 ***THIS FIC IS SET SOMETIME AFTER THE AVENGERS BUT BEFORE CA:THE WINTER SOLDIER***

 **(Let's pretend Brutasha and Laura Barton never existed, shall we?)**

* * *

Natasha Romanoff was never the social type.

She is one hell of a good liar, though. She puts on masks of different personalities to get into people's minds, to get them to do whatever she wants. 90% of the time, it works. Quite easily. Most people are easy to deceive.

However the 10%...

This is the moment she hates the most. It has been three years. Three damn straight years since she failed a fucking mission, and yet, here she is. Compromised with no backup plan, no extraction team on the move. She guarantees nobody even know she's missing. Not yet. Even Fury.

"Seems to me you should have been a little more careful, Black Widow." The man in front of her said calmly with a triumphant smile. Natasha tries hard not to flinch. She doesn't want the man to know how terrified she feels at the moment. She took deep breath, mouth shut with a tape wrapped tightly around her head, gripping it so tightly that it makes her head throb and gives her a slight dizziness. As much as she wanted to answer him, she can't. The man has shoved a piece of cloth inside her mouth before wrapping the tape, so that she isn't able to talk. She clenched her fists tighter, arms tied behind her back and her legs wrapped by long, heavy chains that are attached to a wall. Damn, this man really is prepared. Most people takes tying her legs for granted because they usually don't know that her legs are very lethal. But him, this man, he knows.

He took few steps closer and bent down, pulling her by the jaw with one hand. She let out a surprised gasp. The man is still smiling, his face cunning like a fox, and eyes as dark as night they look so inhuman. She felt his breathing blowing to her face thanks to their closeness. " My, my, my. You indeed are beautiful, aren't you?" He remarked while his eyes moved around, taking in a good look across every inch of her face. Natasha swallowed, angry and terrified at the same time, grunting with rage, hands and feet yanking hopelessly against the chains and rope.

The man let out a devious, psychopathic laugh at her struggle. She almost gagged as she was about to scream in profanity to curse at him until she remembered that she cannot speak at all. So she just stared at him, anger boiling up in her clear green eyes.

"Hush, my little spider." He ran his fingers through her hair. She yanked her head to the side with reluctance and disgust. The man slapped her. She shrieked. "YOU MUST NEVER DISRESPECT ME." He exclaimed. Then just like that, he walked away, left the room and slammed the door shut.

Natasha needs to get the hell away from this place.

Because she has a feeling something really, really bad is going to happen to her if she doesn't.

 _6 Hours ago_

"You slept with him?" Clint raised his voice, frustration showing in his face, his eyebrows tilted in such a way and there are tiny wrinkles on his forehead. Natasha had always thought he looks oddly cute when he's angry.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes while turning her back and walking away.

She felt and heard Clint's footsteps thumping sternly behind her. " Hey, Tasha. Answer me. I'm trying to have a conversation here."

"Well I'm not." She stopped and turned.

"Sleeping with him?" Clint looked a little more relieved.

She raised an eyebrow. "Trying to have a conversation."

And just like that, his whole facial expression changed and his body tensed. " WHY? Why would you fucking let that stupid bastard fuck you?"

"Why are you yelling? It's Sunday for fuck's sake. Be happy, will ya?" She decided to ignore the fact that he, indirectly, just offended her.

"Because the woman I−" His mouth was half open but he froze there. Unable to continue.

"The woman you what? What, Clint?" Natasha said, indifferent.

He shook his head, loosened his shoulders and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "No, nothing. You're right. I shouldn't have freaked out like that. I have no right to. Sorry."

" Great then." She looked down to her wrist to check her watch. "Shit. My jet's leaving. See you in four days Clint." She turned away again, walking down the Triskelion's empty hall but not before stopping for the last time and turning back with a half smile on her face. "Thanks for your concern anyway."

When she finally walked out the door, Clint looked out from the glass window, to the view of the city outside from the twentieth floor. He sighed deeply to himself, words hung in the air as he whispered to himself _"I love you Tasha"_ so softly even he himself can barely hear it.

He had always loved her. And probably, always will. Sure, he's not some charming billionaire, a hammer wielding demigod, a super genius scientist or some athletic patriotic hunk. But he really does love her. At first it was just stupid, inappropriate dreams he had of her every night, but then they started partnering up, have missions together and protecting each other. He grew to trust her as she grew to trust him. They have always had each other's backs. It didn't take long for him to realize he was falling in love with her. And the realization struck him quick as he lay with her on a cheap mattress of an empty building in Budapest, her fingers trailed through his bare back on their glorious afterglow. Naked, sweaty, exhausted, but satisfied and happy. She was laughing, commenting on something he couldn't remember. But he remembered the smile she had on her face, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her chest pressed against him, her lips exploring his, her smooth, beautiful red hair, and the sound of her hum and moan. She was beautiful, and he remembered how they stayed up all night after and talked. Just talk. As the sun rises she fell asleep by his side and he remembered waking up and watching her. Her beauty, her grace. Admiring her soft skin and listening to the quiet sound of her breathing.

After that day she always acted like nothing happened. That the beautiful moment they had never existed, that she and Clint had always been nothing but partners. Clint had tried to confront her about it but he always backed out. He just couldn't face her and say it.

And she kept sleeping with different people. Sometimes Clint just wished he could turn his head and shove dirt in his ears or just be completely deaf so that he wouldn't have to hear the latest scoops going around the workplace. SHIELD may seem like super bad-ass and serious organization, but inside, it's nothing but a regular office with normal people trying to meddle with each other's daily lives, aside from the fact that it's filled with office employees who hack into stuff and field workers (agents) who…well, protect the world.

And words spread fast. And sometimes Clint doesn't even know what to believe. He knows that Natasha wouldn't just jump on the next guy she sees. She has her standards, and for all he knew they guys she has slept with all ended up falling in love with her. Some people call her a 'whore', others just think she's a beautiful but nonethless still a deadly and manipulative assassin people should stay away from. But either way, not many people like her.

She slept with Grant Ward, a good looking level 6 field agent. Then there was Toby Gillies, a nerdy analyst. There was also a rumor that she slept with Tony Stark, but when Clint tried asking her about it she just pretended that he never asked her that. So he never knows for sure. New word is, she's sleeping with Steve Rogers. Knowing Captain America in person, the rumor seems unlikely, but judging by how often Fury seems to partner them up lately, it worries Clint that the rumors may be true. But what angers him is not Steve or anybody on that list. What angers him is that he KNOWS for a fact that she slept with one of the targets she had for a mission to get information. She did get the information that she wanted to have, but still. Clint thinks there should've been lots of other ways to obtain information than to sleep with your own enemy. The dude she slept with was no less than about twenty years older, overweight, and by no offense, pretty ugly. He saw them leaving a party together, so being a good partner that he is he quietly followed her to watch her back, to make sure she's safe. Then he found out they went to a hotel and he saw them entering a room. Few hours later Natasha and the man came out. She and Clint had an awkwardly long silence on their flight back to D.C.


	2. Budapest

**Okay guys. A warning that there's definitely a heck lot of smut ahead.**

 **Warning for rape,too.**

 **See, I kinda backed out from writing further because I wasn't sure if anyone is ever going to even read it, but I got one review, so I figured that's good enough! Yayy.**

* * *

 _(Present time)_

The man had come back. He's now kneeling on the floor in front of her, staring at her like a weirdo. She looked away out of discomfort. He kept whispering "beautiful" which makes her feel so uncomfortable. She's pretty sure this man has mental issues.

Natasha isn't sure how long she's been here. But she's feeling pain on her wrists and ankles from her various efforts of getting away, and her mouth feels completely numb. She's pretty sure she's been here for at least four hours now, and she can't help but imagine herself getting out from her cocktail dress and just be back at her apartment, alone. Probably invite Clint over to eat some Chinese and watch some movies that he wants. Clint is the movie guy, she usually just sits for whatever choice he has for them. He has a really good taste for movies.

Oh God, she misses Clint.

Natasha accidentally turned her head to look forward. Her green eyes met those dark eyes of her captor. He smiled at her. "Do you know who I am Miss Romanoff?"

She squinted at the mention of her last name.

"I'll take that as a no." He chuckled, looked down for a second before staring back right at her. " I am here for a mission. Just like you. And my mission is to kill you."

She didn't flinch.

"I know. What a coincidence, huh? The man you were sent to kill is a decoy to lure you in to this mission. Never thought SHIELD would fall right into the trap." He reached for her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear. He began caressing her cheekbone. She growled threateningly. "But I do have to admit that I have a small weakness." He puts a momentary pause before continuing. "Beauty. You're too beautiful to kill." Suddenly, he gripped her by the cheeks and yanked her forward, placing his index finger on her taped lips while whispering "Shush" as he felt her breaths quickened.

"I know you hate this, but trust me, you will grow to love it." He held her by the hair with one hand to keep her head in place, while the other hand reach behind her head and ripped the duck tape off. She spit out the cloth she had in for so long and start coughing, taking all the air she had missed. The man quickly let go and jumped away from her reach. Lucky for him, she's too exhausted to speak, at least for the moment.

He waited for her, until she looked up and say, "Grow to love what? Being tied and locked in a prison?" Her voice sounds odd even to her now; raspy, dehydrated.

He laughed, started walking closer in a circular move. She quickly noticed his presence behind her, standing proudly with pride and triumphant. She turned her head to look at him. "What now you sick bastard? Just kill me already. SHIELD will find you−"

He took out a knife from his pocket and threw the case off. She never finished her sentence. The thought of being tortured again after all these years just bring her nightmares from one of the darkest memories of her past.

"Try to not move so it'll be easier."

She started arranging a plan. She will reach for the knife, cut her hands loose, then kill the man.

But he was too quick. On one single motion, he pulled her tied hands as far away from her back, then she heard a noise of clothing ripped and a wave of cool air striking her bare rear side's skin. Her eyes widened and she shifted uncomfortably. Unfortunately, she couldn't move much.

"No, no, no. Please, please−" She begged, her voice huskier than ever.

"What did you just say?" The man pulled her by the hair, his body bent over hers, his lips trailing kisses down her neck.

"I−I don't want you t−to−" She shuddered, her lips trembling to his touch. He groped her breast with his other hand, squeezing it lightly. She gasped in surprise and fear, her breaths quick and short, horrified.

"Your skin is so soft, Natasha. So warm…and smooth." He smiled, finally letting go of her head, but quickly moved to kneel over her splayed back and using both of his hands to rip her black, tight, cocktail dress, starting from its neck. It only took seconds until he can see her naked back. He moved his fingers to touch the smooth surface of her skin, all the while ignoring her hopeless struggling movements to break free from her bondage. He rubbed his thumb along the line of her bra, admiring the beautiful material.

"You know what's beautiful Natasha?"

"Seeing you die?" She challenged, with whatever ego and dignity left on her.

"No." He took her hands on her back and pressed them down so she stayed still. He sat down on her ass and she gritted her teeth at the feeling of his erection under his pants. " What's beautiful is the noises that you will make. Scream all you want, my beautiful spider. No one can hear you here."

She gulped then grunted hard as she tried to break free from his hold. Again, she failed. He was stronger and he was in a more advantageous position to have power over her.

The man used his other hand to rip off the lace of her dress' shoulders away. She hated the fact that she stayed still when he cut off the back of her bra because she didn't want his knife to hurt her. It's a complete humiliation for her to feel this powerless. To let herself be used, especially like this.

The man reached under her and pulled her dress and bra away. She is now almost naked. The only clothing she had left was her underpants, and even that was torn apart on her butt. She just stayed there in silence as she heard the sound of the blade cutting apart the last piece of clothing she had left on her. When it was finally taken away, she felt like crying.

But she struggled again as she heard the sound of belt unbuckling behind her. Although she's pretty sure she must've had looked like a slug trying to crawl on a slippery floor. Then she heard the sound of unzipping and pants dropped down.

The man positioned himself comfortably on top of her, his clothed chest pressing her bare back, his erection hard between her ass cheeks and his hands on either of her breasts, mouth kissing hard on her neck, passionately.

"Wait," she gasped hopelessly.

He sucked the skin of her neck. "Hmm?"

"I−please−anywhere, just not back there." Her voice was weak and quiet.

"Louder, Natasha. I can't hear you."

If this were not the position they were on right now, she would have snapped his neck for calling her Natasha. But she's not exactly on that position of any kind of bargain right now, so she just obeyed. "Please don't do it there." She said with a normal volume, only that her voice was shuddering and rough.

"Where?" He sucked on her jaw.

"On−on my− anal. Please don't do anal." She almost whined.

"Oh I'm not sure I can do that sweetheart. It just looks so damn good back here." He grind down the swell of her ass.

"Please, I'm begging you…please."

He didn't answer. His mouth trailed kisses down her spine, then he turned her over and sunk his face on her tit, sucking on one of the nipples. She felt guilty for gasping and moaning. She's angry and frustrated, mostly at herself for losing so easily. What is wrong with her? How can this man just…win?

"You like it don't you? You like my tongue on your tits?"

She moaned, didn't say a word. Her heart was still racing though, with terror.

He licked and sucked each of them until they turn into hard little peaks, and with his teeth, and put gentle bites over them. Natasha did nothing but close her eyes and wish for everything to be over.

He spread her legs open. She tried to keep her eyes shut but they jolted open as she felt the thickness that started to enter her. She looked down and screamed in protest. But he held her down so he can penetrate her better. He was gasping in pleasure, meanwhile she cursed and swore, trying to deny what's happening. He's fucking her. No, correct that. He's raping her. She's being raped. And she just lets it happen. It took him quite a while to fully sink his length inside her because of the size, but once he did, he started pounding mercilessly. Natasha was nowhere near a virgin, but she never had anyone this big before. She dreaded for what comes next.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" She yelled, and screamed and shook her body for freedom, but it was useless. After a while she just stared at the ceiling in silence as he pounded inside her, again, and again, and again.

She just sort of emptied her mind and tried to distract her mind to somewhere else. And the first happy thought that came to her was… Clint. His face, his smile, his self-deprecating sense of humor, how he always tries to light up the situation. His serious face when he draws an arrow from his quiver and trying to explain to Natasha what the function of each arrow was. They all looked the same to her, she had no idea how Clint can tell the difference. Well yeah, if you look at them really closely, the look kind of different, but, you know. On the heat of a battle? Natasha's pretty confused on whether Clint were always just randomly picking out whatever kind of arrow he reached first or if he really was picking them depending what he wants to use it for.

He always makes really good caramel popcorn. He refused to use the microwave ones, and always made it by himself. And they will sit on a couch together, sharing a big bowl of popcorn , watching a movie. And every once in a while Clint will make some comments of the camera angles, or the acting quality, or the lines. She loves how he explains things. How he makes his quirky comments. The way he acts like movies are a part of his life that he can't live without. Well, maybe it is.

And Natasha wonders if she can live without Clint now that she's known him.

"You're. Not. Making. Any. NOISE." The crazy guy yelled after he slapped her hard by the face, her cheek felt like burning.

He pulled out of her quickly, and turned her over to lay on her stomach. Now once again, spreading her legs open, he directed his length into a whole new place.

"NO! NO! Please, no, I don't−" She stopped and whined loudly. "Oh my fucking−fuck!"

"That's it." He laughed, satisfied as he slowly entered her, moaning her name. It takes longer for her to adjust to his size now. He has to force his way in a little bit.

"Please don't. Please." Natasha cried in pain, her fists clenched tight and her whole body stiffened. She lets out a scream as the man pushed in harder, trying to bury all his length, his cock slick with the liquid of her wet pussy.

"Still a virgin here huh?" He teases while Natasha was trembling in pain.

It was painful. So painful that she wanted to cry. She kept whining and saying please, until she gives up and for the first time of her life said :

"I'M BEGGING YOU!" She shrieked aloud. It only took seconds for her to finally burst in tears. It's been years since she cried, and she felt so ashamed by it. But yet, it really does hurt a lot. She would take a bullet wound any day over this.

She gasped then cried in pain as he forced his way deeper into her. "It−it w−w−won't fit." She sobbed, burying her face on the floor. No way to distract her mind now.

"Come on Natasha you know you like it. You can take it." He whispered in her ear.

She breathed in and out. Trying to calm her breath but it didn't help. It still hurts. A lot. It felt like somebody was ripping open an organ inside her. Well technically, he was.

He was gasping and moaning in pleasure, and Natasha just hates him so much for it.

"Please, please. I'll do whatever you want..j−just pull it−" She cried again. "OUT!"

"Stop this. Stop this. Stop this." Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming she did. She kept repeating the sentence but the man didn't seem to care.

He thrust in deeper. She felt pain. Pain, electrifying her whole body and burning her senses. Her asshole felt like it was torn apart. It probably is. She bit her lip to hold down a scream on the back of her throat. Screams only make him satisfied. She should remember that.

"Come on Natasha. A half more."

She sobbed harder. "F−FUCK Y−Y−YOU. F−F−F−FU−FUCK YOU!"

He laughed and pulled her red hair so her head would rise up. At the same time he thrust in deeper, with harder force than ever. Natasha let out the loudest, longest, most painful cry she has ever heard herself done in her life. She didn't even sound like herself. She's sobbing really hard now. Her head was spinning. The pain. It's creeping all over her. Once again she tried to stabilize her breathing, trying to keep herself awake. God knows what will happen if she lose consciousness. She didn't even believe in God, but in that moment she found herself wishing that if God truly exist then He better save her and kill this fucking bastard for raping her.

At the next thrust, she knew he finally buried his length inside her. She screamed in pain again. Doesn't mean it's over though. It's just the beginning. Only took about two seconds before he started grinding and pounding into her mercilessly, slapping his pelvis to her ass cheeks while she dropped her head to the floor, eyes staring blankly at the empty room. It's still painful. But after a while the pain just sort of subsides, or perhaps she just gone numb. Her face was wet with tears and she bet she must have looked like shit.

She closed her eyes and drift her memory somewhere else to distract herself.

 _(Pre-Avengers)_

It was Budapest, Hungary. And it was a night after a pretty successful mission. Unfortunately they accidentally lost their suitcases, where they keep their money, clothes, as well as their comms. Their only way out of Budapest were the emergency plane tickets that Natasha talk Clint over into buying. It was a funny story how they lost their stuff; they sank it into the water along with a group of mobsters that were after them. Clint just randomly shot one of his explosive arrows, and boom, the ship goes down. The problem was, that was _their_ ship. As in, SHIELD's ship that was rented to them regarding the mission. And there was absolutely no plan of them sinking it. But they sort of had to, because of their situation.

So with the money left in their pockets, they took a cab, feeling lucky that SHIELD had provided them one of those tiny, super-emergency-use-only safe houses pretty close to the airport and decided to crash in for the night to wait for the flight next afternoon. They're both pretty happy and giggly.

"Did you see that guy's face? Did you see it?" Clint asked with a laugh.

"Oh yeah. He was like 'oh my God my life is over'" Natasha laughed with him, lowered her voice to mimic the mob king's voice.

They entered their room, and as soon as Clint signaled the place clear, and they entered the bedroom to rest, he _accidentally_ kissed her. Well Natasha couldn't make out quite exactly how it happened. All she remembered was that Clint was all psyched up about how their mission went well, then he apologized about sinking all their belongings and their ship, and he joked about how Fury would be "Fury-ous" of them.

Then, he just sort of, kissed her.

It was a soft, gentle kiss, really warm and innocent. And when they pulled back from one another, they both just stared at each other.

"I'm sorry." Clint said, looking so nervous and obviously terrified that he had made the wrong move. "I didn't−"

Natasha shook her head. "No, it's okay." She moved a little closer, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into a kiss, pulling him into collapsing on the bed with her.

He was on top of her, slowly pulling the zipper of her black widow suit down. She actually had to sit up and Clint had to help her pull the sleeves off.

"Man, how long does it take you to get in these?" He asked while helping her.

She giggled. "Quite a while." When she finally pulled her other arm off her sleeve, she lifted her hips up from the bed and without further instructions, Clint pulled the rest of her suit down her feet before finally tossing it away. Lying back down, she let him kiss her, now deeper, more passionate than they ever thought possible. She placed her hands on his arms, gently squeezing his bare biceps, bringing up a smile from him.

"I know you've been noticing my arms all along."

"Yeah, don't be too happy about it." She smiled back, and just laid there on the bed and watched as Clint zipped down his Hawkeye suit's torso and tossing it away. Shirtless, he came back to her lips. She let him kiss her for a while longer, until she broke it up.

"Ungh−pants, off." She moaned.

He obeyed, now leaving them lying on bed with nothing but underwear on. He started groping on her breasts, squeezing them gently while she ran a hand through the front size of his pants, feeling his hard on.

"Why haven't we done this before?" He said breathlessly, Natasha arched her back up to let him slide a hand down her back and unclipped her bra with one hand.

She tossed her bra away. Clint stared at the view for a moment."There's always a first time for every−" She gasped in pleasure as Clint buried his head on one of her breasts. "thing."

She ran her fingers to his bronze colored hair, admiring the texture, and the smell of his shampoo and his skin. And the warm feel of his breath against her skin, the roughness of his tongue against her skin, the calluses on his fingers as he ran his hands cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples and made her sigh and moan.

When Clint rose his head up, his hair was so messy Natasha laughed. "I messed up your hair!" She said. He just smiled innocently and trailed kisses down her stomach, hands still groping her breasts and thumb playing with her nipples. When he reached the edge of her underwear, she lifted her hips up and let him slide it down before finally kicking it away herself. She gasped in surprise when he trailed his tongue on her mound.

"Clint, you don't have to−"

He rose up for a moment. "No, I want to."

Her cheeks flushed red, she was hot and ready. She nodded and he came back to licking her. Flicking his tongue back and forth over her clit, surging a quick reaction from her, moaning, back arching, and hands fisting the sheets.

"You're so wet, Natasha." He hummed, she replied by yet another moan. He moved a finger to the game, teasing her wet opening, sliding in and out while his skilled tongue flicked all over her clit, eliciting a loud moan, gasping his name. Adding another finger to the game, the hawk looked up without moving his head away from her pussy. With his god-given sharp vision stared up to see her face, the way her face looked as if she was in heaven.

He moved his tongue to her opening, joining his fingers, while finally, adding one more finger to spread her opening, his index finger curving upwards when it reached a certain depth that he knows will drive her crazy. And she did.

"Clint…it feels so good." She moaned, grasping the sheets tighter until they crumbled on her hands, her whole body trembling in anticipation. She started bucking her hips upward against his face and fingers, creating a slow rhythm of pleasure. She's close to coming, and both of them know it.

"Come on baby, come." Clint kissed and sucked her clit. She released a stream of come while letting out a soft, beautiful whimper, and she could feel his tongue vigorously licking and sucking at every last drop of it. He finally lifted his head, chin and lips gleaming with come, climbing to the top of the bed to meet her lips, letting her taste herself.

"So sweet. So good." He whispers between their kiss.

"Thank you." Natasha smiled as she broke their kiss, cupping his face with her palms, her thumb wiping his cheeks from her come. She looks him in the eyes. Clint returned her smile with a wide grin, satisfied. "Nobody has ever offered me that before."

Clint chuckled. " Yeah? I've been dreaming of giving oral to you since we first met, honestly."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because I like doing it." He gave her a quick kiss before he rolled over to her side, a hand under his head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to catch a breath for a bit."

She tiptoed her fingers, brushing along his pecks, then abs, admiring the stern lines of his body, his toned muscles and the feel of his skin. She pulled in closer and nuzzled on the crook of his neck. "And I'll just lay here pretending not to see your hard-on."

He laughed. " Just so you know, you shouldn't feel like you have to return the favor or anything. I was totally pro-bono."

"You're so weird." She giggled, lifting her head and start planting kisses on his chest.

"I'm different." He corrected, start eliciting little moans by the sight of the beautiful red head placing herself on top of him and slowly planting kisses on his abs, while going lower. He reached out a hand and slipped his fingers through her hair. Right then, she looked up and smirked.

"You're up to something." Clint guessed.

"None other than you would expect." She kissed his belly button, ran her lips down through a line down his treasure trail until she touched the edge of his pelvis.

"Nat, I told you. You really, really, really don't have to do this." He looked sincere when he said it. But as he was about to say something else, Natasha took a grip of his length in her hand, and start stroking. She lowered herself between his thighs and kissed the top of his length. Clint moaned her name as if it was a reflex. His body jolted in surprise and his mouth fell open, all sorts of curses sighed from his mouth as he took in the sight and the warm, wet feel of Natasha's mouth covering the tip of his length. He took strands of her hair and held them on the back of her head to help her focus and at the same time, for his own advantage, to see her better.

"Oh Natasha. " He moaned, placing his other hand on her cheek, rubbing it softly.

Her green eyes glanced up, teasingly looking up to his face as she took his length all the way down her throat. He gulped, feeling like he could come at this sight. She sucked hard while slowly pulling her head back and off from his cock, now wrapping her tongue around the sensitive tip, licking it painfully slow, but hard. Clint threw his head back down the mattress, back arched, but he struggled to control himself and continue watching. She pulled her tongue back, trailed a line of saliva from the base of his length to the tip, repeating the motion several times. When she took his length slowly all the way to her throat then start bobbing her head up and down his length, he couldn't do anything but watch in awe while moaning her name every now and then. She hummed along the process, her voice deep and husky, so sensually beautiful.

"Natasha I−I'm gonna−" He felt his cock throbbing, and the last thing he wanted to do was to come all over her face and make her suffer.

She smiled cockily but obeyed his indirect order, leaning her chin on top of his right hipbone, his erection shimmering with saliva next to her head. "Where do you want to come?"

"I don't want you to suffer through that. Just−just−" Clint brushed his fingers through his hair. He inhaled deeply then exhaled. " I don't wanna come on you."

"What's that suppose to mean?" She asked huskily. "You're not gonna fuck me?"

He shook his head quickly. "No! Not that. I mean, I'll just come on the condom. I−"

Natasha's eyes darkened. He tried to read her face, but that spark of vulnerability disappeared from her face just as fast as it comes. He wanted to ask what she was thinking about, but he just couldn't find the right words to.

"Don't worry. I'm clean." That's all she said. And although subtle, it was enough hint for a spy like Clint to figure out what's going on. There was agony in her tone, which made Clint regret of what he had said before.

"Okay." He nodded. It was just one word, but he said it in a tone that symbolize his sympathy, as a sign of how much he cared about her and that he will always be there for her, as he had always been. He just hoped Natasha would catch that subtle gesture. She gave him a small smile, then crawled up and kissed his lips, slowly, passionately, warmly. He closed his eyes and took in the moment, hoping that it could last forever. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling their bodies together then rolling her to position her under him. She guided his length while spreading her legs wide, wrapping her legs around his waist. As he lower himself down, they stared into each other's eyes, both losing their breaths in the process, gasping at the same time as they felt his length on her opening. He easily pushed in, burying the whole length within her. Then he pulled back and started pounding with gentle motions, angling and aiming his thrusts as precise as he can be, to hit her G-spot that drives her crazy, moaning his name. Her nails dug into his back, but he doesn't care. He had his hands pinned on either side of her face, to give leverage. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting out soft, beautiful moans that Clint loves. Natasha arched her back, her hips moving in a flowing motion that matched his rhythm, grinding hard but gentle at the same time. When Clint picked up a faster pace, she quickly adjusted with him, and for a moment she thought that she was right where she belongs all along; their bodies are just so perfect together. So in sync. And it feels wonderful. Glorious. Heavenly delightful.

He leaned down to suck on her neck. Natasha ran a hand through his hair, threw her head back deep on the pillow and hissed in pleasure. "Mmh… Clint. Kiss." Her voice trembled as she mustered.

Clint obliged, moving his lips along her jaw line, quickly wrapped his lips around hers, kissing her so hard that he pushed her head deeper to the pillow. She moaned to his mouth as his fingers wrapped around her right breast, and Clint took the opportunity to shove his tongue down her mouth, flicking it with hers. He was as breathless as she was, and they both could feel how damp their bodies feels against one another as they began to rapidly perspire. Clint pulled back, separating their mouths but nuzzled their noses together; putting his forehead on top of hers, with eyes closed listening to her breaths and little writhe.

"Fucking, God, Natasha. You feel so good− so fucking good." He whispered breathlessly.

He felt Natasha's sweet, small laugh, and as he opened his eyes, her green ones were staring back onto his. She tilted her head up and sucked gently on his lower lip, eliciting a moan from him.

"How does it feel?" She nuzzled her nose against his ear playfully. He can hear her tone mocking him. "How does it feel to have me inside you?" He knew even without looking that she was smirking mischievously.

Clint grunted. "Dammit Tasha. You seriously just said that?"

Natasha moaned again, this time in such exaggeration that Clint laughed. "Come on baby, tell me." She purred.

He shook his head in laughter that she broke off character for a moment and laughed with him. "Shit. You actually did sound so sexy when you said that, do you know?"

"Mmh…. Do I, now? How about if you start telling me how it really feels like?" She whispered in his ear again, sending shivers down his spine.

"Fuck ." Clint cursed, grunting hard. "It feels so tight and good, I'm gonna fuck you all night and come all over you and make you−" He stopped, realizing how she now tries to hold her laughter.

She moaned loudly with surprise as he thrust harder and faster repeatedly that she just laid there in awe.

"Revenge much?" She teased.

"You made me say that. I can't believe you actually made me say that." He laughed. And he knew she was about to make another snarky comment so he quickly pull out almost completely out of her before thrusting deep again, making her gasp loudly in surprise while exclaiming: "Holy fuck, that's so good."

Clint now is laughing out loud in victory.

"That's not fair." She whined.

"Oh, you know you like it."

She rolled her eyes at his response.

After that, it was just silence. They slowly drift away and started thoroughly did nothing but enjoy the moment. Tasha came first, with a loud whimper that Clint covered with a kiss. She wrapped him tight in her arms, pressing their bodies tighter together while letting him pound into her for a few good last thrusts, all the while whispering him to come soon. He gasped aloud, his whole body shuddering and they both closed their eyes. Natasha purred, feeling the warmth of his come, filling her inner walls. She felt herself wrapped in a deep kiss not long after. He dropped himself on top on her, both of them gasping and breathing hard, fully spent.

She rubbed his bare, sweaty back, softly for a while, letting him catch his breath. The room smells like sex, and his skin smells like a mixture of a musky cologne and salt. She felt his breath blowing to the side of her throat, for he laid his head on the crook of her neck.

It took a while before he pulled himself outside of her, leaving her feeling slightly weird as she actually liked the feeling of having herself so filled with his size. He rolled to the side, lying on his back while she pulled herself out of the bed and walked to the bathroom to clean herself.

When she came out she found Clint waiting for her patiently on the bed, a sweet, harmless smile on his face, so pure and innocent she wondered how it is even possible that this man could ever be an assassin.

Then again, Clint was never the 'kill the target, finish the job' kind of guy. When it comes to killing, he hesitates. Natasha respected how high he holds his moral values, even in his line of work. While her, she was specially trained to follow orders. To kill, not to question why. That's probably what differs her the most from Clint, but at the same time, kept them together and made them an effective team. Clint has the heart, and Natasha has the guts. Ever since partnered with Clint, she learned to question motivations of their targets, and the motivation of SHIELD to send them to kill those people. Sometimes they end up disobeying orders and setting the target free. Some people just deserve a second chance. Just like she did.

"You can sleep if you want." She said as she slid herself under the sheet that Clint generously held up for her to get in.

He shook his head. "Nah, not sleepy. Besides, we practically got almost the whole day to sleep tomorrow. Plane doesn't leave til six pm.

"You're right." She replied flatly.

Silence.

"Thank you." He sighed. "That was…wonderful."

"We dirty-talked like porn stars." She giggled.

He laughed. "You, my lady, should stop watching porn."

"I had to do an undercover mission to investigate drug trades inside a porn industry once. Had to watch lots of those for research." She sounded serious, but still kept her light tone and mood, assuring Clint that she just wants a nice, light, conversation with her buddy on their afterglow.

"What kind of undercover role? Did you play a porn star?" Clint teased.

"Haha, nice one. But, no. I was one of the editor's assistant." She smirked.

Clint faked a devastated grunt. "That would've been so nice though."

Natasha laughed and playfully punched his arm. "Oh yeah, every straight guy in SHIELD would love to watch that I bet."

When Clint didn't reply, she stopped looking at the ceiling and looked to the side, just to find Clint's hazel eyes staring at her. His expression was naturally unreadable, although they've been around each other long enough that she usually didn't have any problem reading through his solid resting face. But right now, however, it's another kind of unreadable. His expression was unreadable to her because… she's just not familiar with it.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He said with a husky voice.

Natasha gave him a half smile and ran her fingers through the side of his face. "And so are you, handsome."

But Clint shook his head, lifted his body, shifting by an elbow, and gave her a crooked smile back. "Sometimes I wonder if you really do know that for a fact or you just think you know it."

"Well, in some degree I kinda figured that. I mean, people give me compliments and some of my employers have tried using me for sex so I guess I'm kind of used being objectified like that. But do I really think I'm beautiful?" She raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I think my cheekbones are weird. They're like, you know, curving up in a really weird way. And uh, my nose is kind of big. I also don't like my teeth, the front ones on the bottom. See?" She pulled her lower lip to show him her bottom teeth. They're not the most perfect teeth but Clint finds it really cute.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure no less than at least 80% of this world's population thinks you're beautiful."

She exhaled. "Well, thanks anyway."

Clint scooted in closer, but stopped as he hung his hand above her waist under the sheet. " Do you mind if I− hold you?"

Natasha bit her lip, scooted closer and pressed her back against his chest instead of answering with words. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead a few times.

She never felt so good. Clint's warmth gave her comfort, and that night was as beautiful as it could get. And they talked, and joked, and laughed, the whole night long.

Until Clint fell asleep and she heard him muttering "I love you Natasha". At first it sounded so indistinct that she thought she probably was hallucinating, but after the third time she found herself sitting on the bed, knowing for sure that Clint Barton is in love with her. She felt so confused. Her first marriage in Russia didn't end well. And it's been a really long time since she was in an actual relationship. And she's just not sure that she's ready for Clint, nor that she thinks Clint is ready for her. And it would compromise their partnership and make their condition a liability to each other. And yeah, they just had sex. And it was a really good one. But so what? It was just sex anyway.

In the midst of her confusion and frustration, she forced herself to sleep. Slowly, she drifted in an uneasy slumber anyway, tired.


	3. Off Hours

(Present time)

Clint Barton sprung up from his bed, gasping breathlessly. Sweat dripping down his forehead and fists clenching down the sheets of his bed. He looked around to find himself still in his apartment room in D.C, and none of his surroundings has changed at all, but yet he felt so disrupted it's impossible for him to go back to sleep. He looked at the digital clock next to his bed. It's 2 in the morning. Yet there he is, wide awake.

He got up , feeling like a total shit all the sudden. He wonders why because he didn't really have such a shitty day before, aside from remembering the memory of Tasha ditching him as if he's worthless like she always does. And that wasn't even today. That was yesterday. Besides that, he had a pretty fine day. Went for a jog in the morning, had breakfast on a diner and spotted a cute waitress who winked at him, Played around on the archery range, Had a cup of coffee with the guys on Triseklion's cafeteria, briefing with Fury about his potential next mission, he even got Tony calling him asking a favor for his new project. Tony said he needed a 'stuntman' for his new experiment. Clint said he would think about it.

After he gulped down a glass of ice cold water, he tried lying on his bed again, staring at the ceiling. His hand rubbed against the empty pillow settled neatly next to him. As he stared at the empty ceiling he realized how alone he is. Maybe it's time to forget Tasha. Maybe it's time to move on.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to go to sleep.

Less than a minute later he rose up from his bed, put on his old jeans and jacket, picked up his car keys, and drove away as fast as he can through the dark night sky.

* * *

She saw his smile. The way he smirks immaturely as if he had all the happiness in the world. She would have been fooled if she hadn't known better.

 _(During Iron Man)_

" _Hey, hey. Nat. Do you ever think about this?" He tapped on her shoulder to get her attention._

 _She turned her head and cocked an eyebrow, staring at the colorful paper he's holding. It's a poster with a big "SING IT" written on it. It's a singing competition._

" _What?" She confusedly asked._

" _You're a great singer." He shrugged sheepishly._

 _"How can you possibly know that, bird eyes?"_

" _Caught you singing Beatles' Blackbird on the parking lot yesterday."_

" _You were there when I was at Wal-Mart?" She rolled her eyes, but she knew that he knew she was only goofing around._

 _Clint smile grew wider. "I was avoiding you actually. Was testing how close I can be around you without you noticing me."_

 _(Present time)_

She can hear her own sobbing in the empty room. She's now alone, in this white tiled floor with the white walled room with only one door, one white, steel door. There's no ventilation and it drives her mad how she tries to figure out what time is it now.

She sunk her head to the floor, hoping it would muffle the sound of her sob, but it was useless. Who is she hiding from anyway? She's the only one in the room right now. And she knows there's a security camera on the ceiling that points directly at her but she couldn't care less. She felt so worthless and undignified she just wished she had died instead.

"Clint." She murmured his name quietly as she thought. She remembered that conversation as if it just happened a second ago. Clint was right. She had never noticed him. She had never noticed how he cared for her. Hell, Clint was, is, and quite possibly would always be the only person who truly cares about her. Fury might care about her, but to him she was just another agent. She's as irreplaceable as anyone can be.

And now, lying on the floor on her own tears, nude and bruised and her backside gaping in pain, she closed her eyes again, trying to imagine the way Clint had held her that night in Budapest, how comfortable and safe she felt around him.

* * *

"What in the hell-?!" Fury exclaimed as he found that it was Clint knocking impatiently on his apartment door. The man looked incredibly tired, he didn't have his eye patch on, and was wearing nothing but shirt and shorts. "How the hell did you know where I live, Barton?"

As much as Clint was surprised seeing the director like this for the first time, he didn't answer but stared at him intently. "This is an emergency sir."

"Can't you just wait a few more hours?" He yawned. He wasn't wearing his eye patch and was only dressed with a pair of gray pajama pants and white sleeveless shirt.

He shook his head. "This is an emergency. I think Natas−Agent Romanoff is in trouble."

Fury sighed, then gave him one last look before stepping back and opening the door wide to let him in. "Make yourself at home." He said sleepily as Clint sat on his sofa.

Clint looked down, staring at his shaking palms. "Director−"

"This is off hours, boy. Call me Nick." He said as he sat down next to him and turned on the tv. "And," he sighed again before adding, "you don't have to call her Romanoff here, too. Besides, you and I both know as much as everyone in SHIELD that you got your eyes on her."

Clint's eyes widened in shock. "Do they, really?"

"We're spies. We're the best at reading people." Nick answered, slightly agitated, perhaps by the commotion on how Clint disturbed his much needed sleep.

Clint felt a rush of warm blood filling his cheeks, and he was glad it was dark enough for the director to not notice him blushing. "Well uh, Nick. I think she's in trouble."

"You _think_?" Fury folded his arms, standing tall. He still sounds pissed.

"I just know it. I just do." Clint insisted.

"Based on what, Barton?" Now he starts to sound more professional. "Natasha must remain undisturbed until Thursday. That's the deal. If she doesn't come back until then, we'll send back up. Is four more days too much to ask? Well, technically, three, since it's morning already. And I'm pretty sure she's fine. She handled at least three dozen missions like this before."

"Look, I−" Clint shook his head and rubbed his fingers roughly through his bronze hair. " I just know it sir."

"You'll see in three days then." Fury said, indifferent.

"What if three days is too long? What if−"

"What would you have me do Barton? Send you there, barging in on the middle of the mission and compromise the whole thing?"

Clint looked up at him, determination pointing on his sharp eyes. "Yes."

Fury frowned, kept staring at him in silence for a while. "Is this an excuse to sleep with her? You know you can do that as soon as she gets back−"

"No, no, it's not like that! Direct− Nick. " He raised his voice. " Please. I know it sounds stupid because it's just a hunch, but, I'd rather see her hating me for the rest of my life than knowing that she's hurt or−" He felt his breath subdued. "Dead." He looked away, not wanting Fury to look into his eyes and realize how much he cares about her.

Fury took a breath. "Alright. I'll send you there, but with one condition: if you're just screwing up, and there's nothing wrong with the woman, let alone you're doing this just to screw her, and yes, by screwing I mean, literally screwing her, I will detain you and refrain you from any upcoming missions in the next six months and I will put you back on level five."

Clint nodded quickly. "Deal."

"I'll call in Hill to let you know on the details. Be at HQ in five hundred hours."

Clint stood up, trying so hard not to get his excitement over his head. "Thank you sir. It means a lot to me."

As he was walking to the door, Fury asked, "Speaking of screwing, are you screwing her, Barton?"

Clint stopped, frowning at such a personal question. He looked back and stared at Fury, questioningly.

Fully smirked. "I'm off hours."

"No, nah. Well, I wish I am." Clint answered, figuring there's no need to keep this from Fury anyway. The man knows how to keep a secret.

Fury chuckled. "Don't we all. Now you go home and get some more sleep. You're gonna need it."

Clint smiled at Fury's effort to crack a joke. Well, the man is right anyway.


	4. Biggest Weakness

**Woohoo! Another chapter.**

 **Gimme some feedback guys. I'd like to hear what you think about this story so far!**

**And oh, if there's any grammar mistake, please just tolerate it. English isn't my first language!**

* * *

(Few hours before captive)

 _Natasha Romanoff kept her eyes on her target. She has been ogling him as much as he has been ogling her within the last two hours. When the lecture session was over and everybody started to leave, the tall, black haired, slightly good looking man with a scar on the edge of his forehead caught her by the arm and pulled her so she didn't get lost in the crowd._

" _Are you new here?" He asked with a warm smile, loosen a grip on her arm, before pulling his arm back to the side of his body. " I don't think I've seen you here before."_

 _She smiled back, flirtatiously, convincing him that she is interested. "Yes. I just moved here."_

" _Yeah? Where from?"_

 _(Present)_

"ANSWER ME." He shouted as he threw a blow to her right cheek. She spit blood out to the floor, still not speaking. "Why did SHIELD send you to Hong Kong?" When realizing she's still not replying the black haired man with the scar turned his head to the other man in the room. That man. The rapist. Natasha didn't even want to look at him.

The other man shrugged. "Natasha. Just answer him."

Natasha sunk her face back down to the floor, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Dan. You know boss needs answers. "The man with the scar said.

Dan hissed. " She's not talking. What else do you want me to do?"

She quickly glanced up, her eyes met Dan's. He was expressionless, and his eyes looked cold. She gave him a threatening look but she's pretty sure she just looks like a pathetic cheap whore who begs to her pimp. "Natasha, answer him or I'm going to fuck you again, sweetheart. This time I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll wish you were dead."

The scar-faced man laughed coldly. " Hear that, Black Widow? You know, about that, I won't mind giving it a try myself."

She felt like she's going to burst out into rage and destroy everything in the room, but she couldn't. She couldn't even lift her feet, for God's sake.

"Is she any good?"

Dan whistled. "Best I've ever had."

She gritted her teeth hard.

"So answer me." The dark haired man lifted her head by the chin and forced her to stare at him, she could make out Dan's movements on the corner of her eyes as he moved to behind her.

Her breaths quickened and her body stiffened at the mortifying memory.

"ANSWER ME." The scarred-face tightened his grip on her jaw. Her bruised cheeks reacted to it by sending a wave of pain that she gulped down in silence.

She kept her mouth shut and wanted to distract her mind by trying to remember what the name of the scarred man was. She knew he'd told her. In fact she knew that for a fact. But for some reason she just couldn't remember it. It probably has something to do with the drug he'd put in her drink earlier. And the thought just frustrated her. How could she be so stupid?

And she still kept her mouth shut, even as she felt Dan spreading her legs and ass cheeks, and as Dan's erection penetrating her tired and torn body. She felt like screaming as he pounded fast to her, she felt sick of herself as she listened to him moan and gasp in the pleasure that she never meant to gave him. It felt like as if somebody keeps poking in a fresh wound that you have, and that person won't stop. And Natasha wanted to scream so bad, but she decided to bite it down and kept as still and silent as she can, although the pain kills her.

 _(Few hours before captive)_

" _So tell me. How did an American like yourself end up in Hong Kong?" The man who introduced himself as William Bolt asked as he took a sip of his red wine._

" _Well, I'm just visiting an old friend." Natasha shrugged, smiling innocently. "How about you? What brought you here?"_

 _Bolt leaned back to his seat. "My buddy and I are starting this company. He's from here and he has this great idea of a project that we're currently working on."_

" _Ooh, fascinating." She leaned forward on the table while sipping her wine as well. She's great at flirting and seducing so this mission shouldn't be a problem for her. She's done countless of these before, this is nothing._

 _Little did she know that the next thing she realized was that she woke up in a completely different room, tied down, chained, and mouth taped and no way out._

 _(Present time)_

Maria was kind enough to let Clint use of the Quinjets that SHIELD has after she gave him a debrief of Natasha's mission. She's in Hong Kong, her mission was to infiltrate the drug trading company to get a hold of some of the names and locations of its leaders and operations by copying the data in William Bolt's computer, the drug dealers' trusted hacker, and assassinate him at the end of the mission. Sounds pretty easy for Tasha, Clint thought. But then again, why did he feel like something's wrong? Plus, it's a strong feeling. Really strong one.

When Clint left, it was Tuesday, 5 o clock in the morning, and after the 10 hr flight, it was still Tuesday, 7 pm at night due to time zone difference, but he was lucky that SHIELD has the technology that allows him to transport that fast to other countries. With normal planes, it would've taken him at least 14 hours to get here. He landed his plane by SHIELD's Hong Kong HQ lot. When he pulled himself out of the vehicle, a lean, but built Asian man greeted him.

"Maria Hill notified me of your arrival." He said with perfect English but with a hint of Cantonese accent. "Welcome to Hong Kong, agent Barton." He gestured so he can lead their way down the lot into the tower which is the HQ building. It stood there magnificently.

"Thank you for welcoming me. I know it's such a sudden decision to come here−"

"No need to worry, Mr. Barton. After New York, everybody here is way too excited to meet you they won't even complain having to fill in the paperwork on such sudden notice." The man continued as they reached the entrance. " You can call me agent Tao. I, and along with two other agents will be happy to accompany you on your mission." He opened the door, and the receptionist behind the lobby table gave Clint a way too excited look. Clint just gave her a polite smile. Yet she looked like she could faint.

He followed Tao down the hallways, while ignoring the admiring and fascinated stares from people they passed along the way. Then they arrived in a room that looks somewhat like a meeting room, and there are two other agents there, another man and a woman. They quickly introduced themselves as Agent Feng and Agent May. Unlike Tao, Feng is shorter, not too short, but his posture was pretty built, almost bulky. Probably around 5'4. May is pretty tall, around Clint's height. Clint himself isn't such a tall guy; he's definitely shorter next to Cap and Thor's broad expanse. But next to Tony and Bruce, especially the petite Tasha, he's just a regular sized guy.

"Alright. So, uh−" He started. The three agents looked at him expectantly to hear more about the mission. "As you may have known, Natash−I mean, Black Widow was sent to a mission about a day ago, but it went south so Fury sent me here to retreat her from it."

"I read her mission files. She is originally expected to come back at Thursday. As you may have known, it's still Tuesday, agent Barton. Don't you think we should probably wait a little longer before risking blowing up the whole operation?"

"Look, something is wrong and I don't want to risk losing her first to find out." He clenched his jaw. "Now show me the way to the hotel she's staying in."

 _(Sometime before Iron Man 2)_

 _"Wait. So is this Atreyu guy gonna make it?" Natasha gasped in surprise, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Clint's lap and started chewing._

" _I don't know. Just keep watching." Clint whispered, too focused in the movie._

" _But, you've seen this! How does it end? Wait. Don't spoil it. I want to be surprised."_

 _Clint looked down at Tasha who was leaning by his shoulder, all snuggled up in a blanket with Clint's arm around her shoulders. He couldn't help but think how adorable she looks right now. She noticed him staring and looked up to his eyes, smiling. "Why are you staring?"_

 _Clint leaned down and kissed her. He was surprised to find Natasha jumping out from her seat and she stood up, blocking the tv screen. Her face horrified. "No. Don't do that again."_

" _Wait, why?" Clint raised a brow, confused. "But in Budapest−"_

" _Nothing happened in Budapest. She dropped her blanket to the floor, reaching for her jacket and putting it on. Her expression was unreadable as usual, and she was walking out the door when she said, "do not ever mention it again." And with a sound of door slamming open and closed, she was gone._

 _It took days until Tasha start treating him normally again, and it took weeks for her to finally smile again at his jokes. And just like that, Clint never brought up about Budapest again. They both acted like it was nothing but a distant, horrific memory. Although deep inside, Clint thought about it almost every night before he went to bed._

Clint knocked on the door of what supposedly is Natasha's hotel room. No answer. He looked back at his three Chinese comrades. Feng asked him to try knocking again. He did, this time louder. Still no answer.

"Natasha, it's Clint." He finally said, while knocking again.

Still no answer.

"Step back." Clint said, as he himself step back before kicking the door hard, dropping it open with loud thump. Tao cursed in Cantonese, complimenting his strength. "Heads up guys." Clint said as he silently stepped in, followed by his partners. He gave simple instructions for them to look around specific places with his index finger. While he himself moved to check the bedroom. Her black suitcase was on the bed, it was open, but it looks like she hasn't even unpacked. Other than that, the room looked like it was untouched. Clint was sure she didn't even get to sleep here at all. The thought made himself nervous. So his hunch could be right after all. Good news, he won't be lowered to level 5 but bad news, where is Tasha?

He checked under the bed and found Tasha's other suitcase, where she stores her equipment. Splaying it on the bed and opening it, looks like she has taken nothing. Absolutely nothing from it. He swore. Wherever Natasha is she's not being clever by not taking any of her weapons.

"Clear!" He heard agent May shouted from another room, followed by Tao and Feng saying the same word.

"Clear!" Clint followed. They all stepped out to the main room at the same time, each with a confused look.

"I don't think she even got the chance to use the bathroom at all." Feng said.

"Or the kitchen." May nodded.

They all looked at Tao and the man just shrugged. "Found nothing too."

"She hasn't even unpacked." Clint sighed.

"What do we do know?" May asked, noticing the worry on his face. She knew just by a glance how much Agent Romanoff must mean to him.

"She was suppose to attend this lecture by Professor Smith. "

Clint's eyes brightened at the clue. He looked down at Feng, "Was William Bolt there?"

"Yes. That's the reason why she attended the lecture in the first place."

"Professor Smith's lecture sessions are continuous. Which mean that the people who came there yesterday will come again today. The lecture sessions last for two weeks." May explained.

"When's the next one?" Tao asked.

"Same time as always, ten a.m sharp."

Clint grunted, annoyed. He hated to wait while who knows what are possibly hurting Natasha, keeping her somewhere and away from him. What if something bad really has happened to her?"

Agent May noticed the change of expression on his face. "I know you don't like this, Barton. But there's nothing else we can do but wait."

"May's right. We gotta go back to HQ. Feng, you show Barton his quarter when we get there."

Feng nodded.

After picking up Natasha's two suitcases, the agents drove back to HQ, and Clint was shown a SHIELD standard room with a bed, a TV and a bathroom. He forced himself to lay down and sleep. It took him awhile to drift off, but he managed to.

* * *

Natasha is now grunting in pain, her face sticky from dry tears, her whole body aching from all the beatings and forced sex.

"She's probably thirsty. That's why she's not answering." The dark haired man, whom name she now just vaguely remembered as William, said.

"Or just want to keep her mouth shut." Dan landed a hard kick on her stomach again. The pain left a burning feeling that made her grunt. She gasped in shock and pain.

"Just bring in some water, goddammit."

Dan sighed lazily. "Ugh. Fine." He walked out the door and slammed it shut.

"Hey, you know we can go on like this for at least another day if you still insist on not answering."

"What's the point?" She struggled, but managed to say the whole sentence hoarsely. "gonna kill me anyway."

"But you don't know that for sure." William knelt down the floor next to her and lowered his head to stare at her bruised face lying by the side on the floor. He annoyingly gave her a pity look. "I don't like doing this as much as you do, but I have to know. Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Why did SHIELD send you here?"

"You raped me. You fucking raped me, son of a bitch−" She wanted to scream the sentence out with spite and ultimate hatred but she couldn't. Instead her voice was filled with tire and defeat. Didn't take long before she felt a kick down her ribs, again. She roared in pain and her body trembled, the heavy chains on her feet chinked on her movement.

"I don't want to cut you but you left me with no choice." He sounded frustrated.

The door reopened, Dan is now back with a glass of water. He walked down to her and knelt down. "Just water. I know you're thirsty."

Natasha wanted to reject the offer, but what the hell. She craved nothing but water at this moment. Dan pulled her by the shoulder into a seating position and directed the glass to her mouth, letting her drink. She took it hungrily.

"She spoke when you left, you know that?" William exclaimed.

Dan rose up, still kneeling on the floor, staring at her. "Well, what do you know? You really are one unpredictable soul."

Natasha looked down, away from his stare.

" You know what? I know what might get you to talk." William smirked, seem to be focusing on something on his smart phone.

"What?" Dan wondered.

"I got a report that Clint Barton is in Hong Kong right now, looking for you." He put the phone back in his pocket.

Natasha tried not to flinch.

"Seems to me we can get him around here pretty easily."

He might be lying, Natasha thought. Clint couldn't be here. What for? Why would he be? He has no business to be here. But she kept a straight face.

"There has been rumors about you two… I suppose the stories are true then." William continued. "Dan."

"On it." Daniel rose up and smiled, walking out the door.

Natasha yanked the chains on her feet and the bind on her hands. Nothing. Useless. "No! You leave him out of this!" She exclaimed, as if it was a reflex. She regretted saying it the second after. What the fuck? Why did she say it? She just gave the whole thing away. Great. Now they've figured out her weakness.

But William just smiled, and he walked out the door. Leaving her alone and hopeless.

 _(Right after Iron Man 3)_

"Everybody thinks we're sleeping together. Now it's up to you. Do you want me to correct that rumor or not?" Tony asked when they were alone at the Avengers tower. He was messing with some screws on his iron man suit, and Natasha was working on her paperwork by the bar counter adjacent from where Tony was.

She looked up from the computer and found Stark staring at her, waiting. Stark can be an annoying little jerk sometimes, but at this moment, he was being completely serious, for some reason.

"I uh−" Natasha thought for a moment. "What makes them think that?"

"Well, I'm good looking, and so are you. And thanks to Fury sending you over to watch me for twelve hours a day, it's pretty obvious that people will talk. I mean if you want to make that rumor true, of course, it'll be my pleasure." Tony smiled as she saw Natasha rolled her eyes. " But then again I've got my Pepper and you got Barton."

This time Natasha completely stopped typing. "I'm not sleeping with Barton."

Tony looked surprised. "Are you sure? Not even once? Holy Lord. Who are you sleeping with then?"

"Nobody." She said quietly.

"Are you shitting me now? Natasha Romanoff, possibly the most glorious looking person in the whole SHIELD organization, remaining celibate?"

"Doesn't mean I'm a virgin, Stark." She answered monotonously.

"How long since you got laid?"

Natasha looked away with a thin smile. "Who are you, and what did you do to Tony Stark? What's with the personal questions?"

"I've been known to be great at getting under people's skin." He answered incredulously.

Natasha bored him a look. " This is definitely something to write on my report." She smiled, while typing quickly. "Ever since the removal of the chest piece, Tony Stark now has a real, functioning heart, metaphorically."

Tony laughed. "Seriously though. How long?"

 _Since Budapest._ She thought, but considering on how Tony would insist her on telling him about what happened in Budapest, she just answered, " a few years."

"Unbelievable. That's almost embarrassing, actually. Well then, I'm confirming the rumors to save your ass."

"Do whatever you gonna do Stark. I don't care." She shook her head, smiled, and came back to her paperwork.

 _(Present time)_

Clint anxiously watched the clock as it hits ten o'clock. He shifted his eyes towards Feng, who is waiting silently on a corner of a room, pretending to read a program brochure. A middle aged man with brown hair and an over-superficial smile entered the room and stood by the podium. He was saying something, and Clint professionally made himself seem like he cares, although he really doesn't. His trained eyes quietly searched the room for William Bolt. Clint has only seen him is pictures, but he's usually pretty good at recognizing faces so this won't be a problem.

"Scanned left wing. Nothing." Tao's voice whispered through his earpiece. Clint frowned as he kept scanning around the audience.

Out of nowhere, a man stood in the audience, a gun cocked in his hand. The crowd panicked, everybody quickly rushed out to the door, while Professor Smith confusedly stepped back. It all happened so fast. Clint lost his sight of the man with the gun thanks to the panicking crowd scrambling all over the place, but as Clint reached for his gun, he didn't even manage to pull it out as he felt a burning, torturing, familiar feeling of a bullet impaling through his stomach. The shot came from the balcony upstairs.

"Hawk! Do you copy?" Agent May's voice sounded worried. "I heard a gunshot."

Clint tried to balance himself but the crowd pushed him around and dragged him along with them.

Another gunshot. He heard a squeal on his earpiece.

Then another, and Clint lost count of how many gunshots he heard.

Last thing his saw was the ceiling, slowly fading.


	5. Captured

_(Post-Avengers)_

 _"Why did you bring it up?" On a coffee shop down the street next to what used to be Stark's tower, one nice, peaceful afternoon while watching the rebuilding of the most recently destroyed New York City, Clint decided to ask._

" _Bring what up?" Natasha looked up from her latte, tilting her head in the way she does when she's wondering._

" _Budapest. You know, when we were on the street and shooting stuff. You mentioned about Budapest."_

 _She sighed, looking unreadable and expressionless as she normally is, but Clint could read the annoyance beyond it. "I was just− remember when we were in Budapest, there was this mob that were after us? And we had to hide behind a taxi while they were shooting at us. That's why I said it was like Budapest."_

" _You and I remembered Budapest very differently." Clint managed to crack a smile, the tiniest one. It's painful for him to remember what happened after the mob shooting._

" _How come?"_

 _He looked up in disbelief._

" _Nothing happened after that, Clint. Nothing." She insisted, emphasizing the word 'nothing'._

 _Clint wanted to argue. He wanted to kiss her and fuck her senselessly in his anger, wanted to slam her to a wall so he could just stop feeling like a hallucinating fool. Wanted to make her realize that he was real, what happened in Budapest was real. But he just couldn't put it into words. So instead he just stared at her for a while, anger in his eyes. And she stared back at him, and God, he hates her so much for managing to show no emotion on her stare._

" _What? You look like you want to say something." She frowned, sounding so convincingly confused._

" _Nothing." Clint shook his head and sipped down his coffee again._

 _(Present time)_

Clint slowly opened his eyes, pain burning on his stomach. But he managed to lift his head up, and his gaze widened as he saw Natasha Romanoff, on a condition he would never expect to see her in. Her face was thoroughly black and blue, a dry line of blood trailed down the side of her chin and down her nose, her eyes red and swollen presumably from beating and crying, and almost her whole body covered with dark blotches of bruises. Tons of them, especially on her left ribcage. She was lying on her side, feet chained with gigantic metal and hands tied to her back, and worst of all she was naked.

She stared at him, weak and defeated.

"Natasha−" Clint moved up to get to her and hold her and save her but soon enough he realized he was bounded with the same kind of chains that held Natasha down. He fell on his face and had to crawl to sit back down. She was at the opposite end of the room, about 20 feet away from where he was. He looked around, to the empty, blank, cubical white room they were in. He noticed quite a few vigor red streaks stained the floor around where Tasha is, and he just gulped in fear. A couple of lamps lit up the room with a white light, as if staring at them with a pointy stare that hurts their eyes if they ever try to look at them. Clint struggled, trying to free his hands, yank at his feet to force himself to get up and move. He then tried a different tactic by scratching the rope that binds his hands with the metal binding his feet, and he struggled and struggled and struggled until his whole body hurts but he achieved nothing. He grunted and screamed and yelled profanely in frustration, and Natasha did nothing but to just lay still and blink. When Clint finally calmed down, he was panting breathlessly, sweaty and tired.

"It's useless." He heard her raucously spoke. "I tried it all. Nothing we can do."

"No, it's not−" Clint growled, once again forcing his strength to part his tied hands free. He still failed, so then now he's fiercely trying to slide his hand out of the bind. Pain surged in as he felt his wrists rubbing hard against the weirdly strong rope. He's not even sure it's a rope anymore. "We gotta find a way. There must be a way, Natasha. Come on, we gotta try."

"Clint." She said softly, so soft and kind, and oddly loving. It made him remember how much he loves her, and how kind of a soul she really is despite her cold demeanor and closed down personality.

Clint stopped struggling, eyes staring at hers. She managed to pull a smile on her bruised lips. "I'm sorry." She said as she shut her eyes tightly. "I did all this, it's all my fault−"

"No, it's not!" Clint felt himself trying to get up again. He cursed when he failed.

"I love you." She quietly mustered, but loud enough for him to hear clearly in the silent room.

Clint didn't answer for a moment. He just sat there, feeling tears building up in his eyes. He had never seen Natasha Romanoff so weak, so hopeless, so conceded. He knew Natasha for so long that he knew it takes a lot to get her to say something this personal. It must mean something. And he has a bad feeling that he won't like the reason.

"Clint, listen−" She gulped down. "Whatever they do to me, please don't fall for it. Whatever you say or do to them, they will kill us both eventually."

"What? What the fuck does that even mean? Natasha, what have they done to you?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "You don't wanna know, just… promise me. Don't say anything. "

"I−"

"Clint, please."

Clint looked away, but didn't answer her. It hurts him just to look at her like that, to hear how much life had they, whoever they are, have taken away from her. They have taken her strength away. Ripped it off, leaving it torn to pieces. This is a side of Natasha Romanoff he wished he never would see, but yet it's here. It's all real, and it's all happening.

The strong, serious, professional, red headed, breathtakingly beautiful and seductively irresistible spy.

The playful, curious, self deprecating sense of humored, and the relentlessly flirty-jokes she utters every so often and very fondly.

It's gone. It's all gone. All but left is pain.

"I knew I would fall for you on the day that I met you." Clint said with a sigh, almost as soft as a wisp of a whisper."And then when the feelings turned real, I just can't help but live with it."He muttered. He gathered himself enough courage to lift his gaze to meet hers. She was crooking a tiny, hurt, smile. "And nothing, absolutely nothing will make it stop. I tried. I just can't. So I'm sorry, I can't promise you anything. I'd rather be crucified than see you hurt. And I mean it."

The door slammed open.

* * *

"NOOO!" Clint screamed, the sound of the metal chains clinking rapidly as he threw his body around, forcing himself to drag his body down the floor, and as he was laying down on his freshly stitched stomach, causing the now gaping wound to react from the friction he caused. But he still didn't give a damn. He tried to crawl, although hopelessly. "I'll tell you whatever the fuck you want. JUST STOP, you son of a bitch!"

Daniel laughed at him, while William didn't seem to be bothered by it, he just kept on thrusting himself into Natasha's painfully squirming body.

"What makes you think we want your answers, birdie?" Dan turned to look at him.

Clint grunted, and growled to break free. Natasha face−she looks so lifeless, and pale. "You're hurting her! PLEASE, STOP! She can die. Look at her!"

"And do you think we care?" William smirked, breathlessly as he cupped his hands on her tits and kissed her neck.

"PLEASE. PLEASE. I'll tell you whatever you want. Please." He felt tears running down his face. The frustration, the guilt, the devastation. He just wished that he has powers like the Hulk or Thor at a moment like this. He regretted being human, he regretted being so weak.

No answer. But William's loud gasp filled the room, as he finally came inside her. When he pulled himself out, Natasha was silent and motionless, her eyes were shut tight.

"No, no, no, no, no. God damn it. Natasha! Natasha!" Clint kept on calling her name but he didn't hear an answer. The pain in his gut didn't bother him anymore. He doesn't care. If Natasha dies his life means nothing. He has no relatives left on earth. Neither did she. All they have is one another. For so many years, the friendship, the awkward conversations, the fun they had, the onetime sex, the missions they did together, the secrets they shared.

Tasha can't die. She wouldn't, shouldn't, couldn't.

(Way back then before Iron Man)

 _It was raining. Clint just finished his black coffee and Natasha was still working on her latte. When he looked away from the rain on the window his eyes met Natasha's and she pulled down her latte cup. A mustache of white cream built up on her face, and she smiled widely in excitement._

 _Clint laughed at the sight. She laughed with him._

" _Hello, captain White Stache." Clint joked._

 _She leaned forward, giving him a serious, but playful look, her voice made up lower than ever as she said, "CAPTAIN STACHE. REPORTING FOR DUTY."_

 _Clint laughed again. "Okay, you know what? Sometimes I wish all those British aristocrats could be as fun as you."_

" _Barton, you can take a thousand people and not find even one that's like me."_

" _Ooh, confidence."_

 _She lifted her latte cup and smiled. "That's my middle name."_

 _Clint sighed, leaned back to his seat as he returned to look at the rain from the window. "When this mission is done, I'm getting us tickets to Disneyland. Whataya say?" He looked back at her._

 _Natasha giggled. "Sounds alright to me."_

 _(Present time)_

The men already left for a few hours by now. Clint had stopped screaming, now just staring blankly at the pale, motionless body of Natasha Romanoff, his partner who just happens to also be his best friend in this world, along with being the one and only woman he loves.

He's not even sure she's still breathing. He can't see it from this distance. She's completely unmoving, and it worries him so much that he began to cry just now, again.

Then he heard a grunt. A deep, unfamiliar grunt, and Natasha moved her head, shifting it a little to look at Clint.

"You're alive." He said, relieved.

There clearly was pain in her watery eyes, although she's trying really hard to hide it. But Clint could see it anyway. "Takes a lot to kill me, Barton." She replied hoarsely.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything! Have you ever felt so helpless that you−"

She just stared at him and he silenced himself, now realizing that she should have been the one complaining, not him. "How many times has it been?"

Natasha shifted her lying position, wincing at the pain. "Lost count after the fifth time."

"Fucking god." Clint swore and growled, yanking his binds on his feet and hands so hard with all the strength he has left. But nothing happened. It didn't change anything. So he just leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Clint?"

"Hmm?"

"If I die, would you promise me−"

"Natasha, don't."

She didn't care. "Promise me you would move on and find someone else?"

"You're gonna make it. We're gonna make it. I promise you we will."

"You will." She muttered.

* * *

"Agent Barton was missing in action." Melinda May reported, ignoring the pain of the gunshot on the crook of her neck. She was lucky she wore body armor, or else the three extra bullets that those people fired to her torso would've killed her. Barton decided not to do so earlier because if he said it made him feel uncomfortable. May recalled on trying to warn him how dangerous his choice was but he insisted. "One GW, agent Feng and Tao are unharmed."

"Are you okay, May?" Maria Hill asked over the phone, sounding worried.

"I am." May pressed the handkerchief deeper to her wound. She winced a little.

"Okay. Gather your men, we're in for a raid. Barton's got a tracer planted on his wrist." Before May could ask why, Maria continued. "He likes to improvise during his missions by going out of the radar. He went to LA when he was supposed to be at Mexico City once." Hill sighed at the memory. "Anyway, he didn't know we put it there but I'm kind of glad we did. Go back to HQ and I'm sure we'll be able to hook you up with Barton's tracer signal. You'll be able to find his location at no time."

"Copy that."

May looked back to Tao and Feng who stared at her expectantly. "Gear up boys. We're going in for a raid."


	6. Escape

_(Post-Avengers)_

 _Natasha wrapped her arms around his back, kissing him hungrily. Ward pinned her by the wall, tugging on the hem of her shirt, and he moved to suck on her jaw line, then her neck, causing a pleasured moan from her. Natasha yanked his shirt off and he helped her get rid of her own shirt. Standing there shirtless with Ward staring at her perfect cleavage and his thumb rubbing against the smooth edges of her bra, she trailed her fingers on the line of his torso, his toned chest and abs._

 _They just stood there, admiring each other's bodies for a moment, before Ward break the silence and attacked her mouth again. She replied his kiss for a while, until she realized that this doesn't feel right. At all._

" _Ward?" She asks as Ward was kissing the top of her breasts. She held him by the chin to pull him up and he stared at her, impatient. "I don't think we should do this."_

" _What? Why?" Ward grunted, surprised and disappointed. But he just nodded, taking a few steps away from her while putting his shirt back on. An angry look at his face, but he didn't say anything. An awkward moment passed between them, until Natasha ended it._

 _Natasha sighed deeply. "I just can't." And she just stood there as Ward wordlessly stepped out of the room._

 _(Present time)_

"If you said you love me, why didn't you ever say it? You always acted like I was a pest when I showed any kind of affection." Clint asked carefully to fill their silence.

It took Natasha a moment before she finally replied. And even then, Clint could see that she was shivering in cold. "Because I know this kind of shit will happen if somebody figures out we have feelings for each other, let alone have a relationship."

"Well it's too late for that now." Clint said realistically.

"Yes, I can see that."

"Then… what about the Ward, Stark, Rogers, and Gillies?"

"Never slept with any of them. Ward, almost. But I didn't. Gillies was nothing but a lying prick, Stark is now solemnly loyal to Pepper and I don't find him attractive at all. Rogers? Oh my God, I'm pretty sure he's still a virgin."

"Yet you never denied any of those when I asked you."

"Never confirmed any of it either."

"Well your responses always make it sounds that you did."

"Because I wanted you to stop caring for me."

Clint gritted his teeth. She really is stubborn sometimes.

"Point is the last time I slept with someone was two years ago." She rolled her eyes.

"That was the year Budapest happened."

"Exactly."

Clint now looked up, shocked. "Seriously?"

"Why is everyone always surprised on how long I'm able to remain celibate?"

Clint couldn't help but chuckle. The old Natasha was back. "I don't know. Because, you're one of the most attractive person on earth? God damn Tasha, you could stand at Hollywood and will be better looking than at least half of those famous people there."

Natasha just rolled her eyes. "Oh please. So can you. Have you looked in the mirror at all?"

Clint couldn't help but pull a smile. " Yeah. When we're out of here I will."

Natasha didn't reply. When Clint looked up at her, she was back in closing her eyes, shivering in cold, sinking her face down the crook between her bent knees. Clint wished that he could come to her and hold her but he couldn't.

Clint looked around and found a camera. "SHE'S COLD! GIVE HER SOME FUCKING CLOTHES YOU ASSHOLE!"

Of course there was no answer, but not long after he heard some clanking noises and felt that his feet and hands were now loose from the binds. Despite knowing how peculiar the sudden release was, He quickly stood up and ran for the door, trying the knob, failed, then proceed to try kicking it to open it. The metal material that built it echoed really weird and loud thumping noises as he did it, but nothing changed. Tired, he breathlessly stepped back and reached for Natasha, holding her cold body in his arms. He tried messing with the binds in her hands. He was right after all. They weren't ropes. They were some sort of handcuffs with slightly bendable, soft, but unbreakable material. And no matter how hard he tried ripping and tearing it apart, his effort was useless. So he just dragged himself to lean to a wall, Natasha's body in his arms. He took his black coat off and covered it over her shoulders, and opened the buttons of his shirt and pushing their torsos together so he could transfer his heat to her. Her teeth were clanking in cold, but after a while it stopped. And all he could hear was the sound of her breathing. She finally felt safe; she tilted her head and sunk it down the crook of his neck, nose lightly nuzzling his clavicle.

"Thank you." She whispered softly.

Clint ran his fingers down her soft, red hair. God, she is beautiful. Even when beaten, hurt, and defeated. She still is beautiful. He held her slightly tighter but still very careful. She slid a leg and tangled it between his to get his warmth. Her hands were fists and placed over his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Clint muttered, and he kept muttering it over and over again while gently kissing her forehead, feeling so horrible on the realization that without this horrid event he wouldn't probably ever get another chance to hold Natasha like this since Budapest. And he hates himself for it. He could feel her life slipping out of her, drifting so softly but surely the longer they stay here. They needed to get out and she clearly needs medical help but he didn't know how to get out. She was right. They were hopeless.

She moved a hand and placed a finger on top of his lips while looking up. "Shut up." The command sounded so Natasha-Romanoff-like so he just obeyed; now leaning his chin on top of her head. He felt her lips kissing his chest, which normally would probably give him a hard on if they were not in this situation. "You're hurt." She looked down at the badly stitched wound on his stomach.

"I'm okay. They don't want me to die that fast, it seems."

Pause. Nobody said anything for a while.

"I love you so much." Her voice flustered, stopped kissing his chest and lifting her head to stare up at him. Clint saw the look in her eyes and just kissed her, deeply, smoothly.

"I love you more." He gasped between their kiss, taking her head in his hands just to push her deeper into his mouth. Panting for air, at the end they both pulled back at about the same time, and she quietly sunk her head back down on his chest.

"I know." She finally replied after a long silence.

As she fell asleep Clint stayed wide awake, dreading of the worst thing that can happen to them right now.

* * *

"How in the world did they get there?" Tao raised an eyebrow in confusion, the three agents stared at the GPS screen in HQ. It looks just like an arcade machine, except it was SHIELD's and it actually serves a real purpose.

Feng looked up from his tablet and showed to screen to May and Tao. "Got intel on the whole building. We don't know where Clint and Natasha are exactly held in but hey, at least we got the whole building figured out. Here's the map for the whole thing and the information on the number of guards."

May frown in worry. "Tao, get thirteen agents on board. This is a level 7 mission. We leave in 30 minutes. "

Tao nodded and walked away from the room.

"You and I are assembling a plan." May looked at Feng and the agent smiled.

* * *

"Clint."

"Yeah?"

"Would you fuck me if I was ugly?"

"Wait, what?"

Natasha forced a tiny, weak laugh. "Nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about."

"You can sleep if you want."

She hummed disapprovingly. "Nuh-uh. Nightmares."

"Okay." Clint sighed, trailing his fingers down her lower arm, just giving it a gentle brush since he saw the bruises marks and didn't want to hurt her. "Well, I guess I will." He answered her question.

"You probably won't."

"I love you for the way you are. Not for your looks. I guess your look is a bonus. It makes it easier to love you. But jeez, Tasha, we could be ninety and I would still fuck you."

"If you can."

Clint laughed at her joke. "If I can."

Silence. He looked down at her as he felt her tangling their fingertips together. It hurts him so much to imagine what those barbaric shits had done to Natasha; she really did look hurt, and Clint knows for sure she's in pain. And it hurts him more knowing that he can't do anything to help her. He watched the way her fingertips moved, bruised on the joints and scratched on the edges but still beautiful as ever. She does have beautiful hands.

"My first sex was when I was thirteen."

Clint didn't answer, he just listened.

"It was one of the agents on the Red Room. One of my supposedly guardians." She cracked a sarcastic, thin smile. "He'd been touching me in all the wrong places since I was eleven. But he didn't make a real move until that day. He took me to a room and… that's basically how it happened." Her voice was as loud as a whisper.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"To stop you from worrying about me being raped. I've had things like this happened to me before, Clint−"

"Just because it happened before doesn't make it okay." Clint's voice was rigid and agitated. "You're hurt and I can't do anything about it."

She sighed, ignoring Clint completely by saying, "tell me about yours."

"My first? Um." He simply watched as she untangled her fingers from his and trailed her hand down the line of his abs. "I was seventeen, with a fellow circus member. She was the flexible woman."

"Was it good?" She raised a brow and crooked a flirty smile.

"It was okay. Kind of awkward but it was okay." He replied her blunt question with a serious toned answer. "My turn. What's your favorite food?"

"You know the answer already."

"Huh. You're right." He cocked an eyebrow. "PB&J's. You always manage to smuggle at least one in our weapon bag during missions."

"And yours is… Mac and Cheese. You always order that if a restaurant has it."

"That's right." Clint smiled at the notion. He noticed how her voice grew smaller and weaker, and he just couldn't help but feel like crap. Holding the woman he loves in his arms on something that maybe is the verge of her death yet not being able to do anything about it.

When Natasha fell asleep again, he just held her protectively in his arms, not wanting to let her go. The men came again about two hours later, a baseball bat on their hands.

Clint stared sharply at them, warning. "So that's it? You don't need information. You just want to beat the crap out of the two of us now?"

The man with the scar chuckled. "Lovey dovey time's over, archer. Let her go so we can finish our business here."

"Whoever you are, you're both sick bastards."

"Yeah, yeah, we know." The blonde one leaned the bat on his shoulder. "Now I'm going to repeat again. Get. The fuck. Away. From. Her. We want to question you both. Separately."

Clint held her tighter. However his brain is actively on defense mode and he's ready to attack on any treacherous movement the men makes.

When the dark haired one took a step closer while swinging his bat, Clint already got it all figured out. He quickly pushed Tasha aside from his arms, jolting her suddenly awake, while making a jump and head butting the attacker's stomach with such force that he pushed the brown haired man down, landing on top of the blonde haired one. Quickly glancing at both of them in turns and judging which one was the most surprised and unprepared by the sudden attack, Clint grabbed a baseball bat from the brown haired guy, William Bolt, and knocked it hard to his head. Daniel got up and swung the bat, aiming for his head, but Clint quickly backed away and stand defensively between Natasha and the men.

Daniel helped Will to get up on his feet. He staggered a little bit, blood trickling down the right side of his head, his cheekbone purplish blue. Oh yeah. They both looked angry, all right.

He flicked an easy smile, ready to attack.

An intense silence passed, but Daniel was the first one to make a run for him to attack. Clint easily dodged from his swings, although he had to admit, Daniel's not such a bad fighter himself. At the moment Daniel's attacks grew weaker, Clint stopped dodging and made his move, shoving the edge of the bat to his stomach, making him grunt in pain and fell back, dropping the bat while holding his stomach in pain.

Will hesitated but reached for the baseball bat lying on the floor anyway. And Clint just let him. The man threw a weak and shaky swing so Clint easily took the opportunity and gave a hard swing to the other side of his head. He fell down, unconscious.

"That's." Clint hit Daniel hard on his thigh. He screamed. "For. Raping. Tasha!" He hit Daniel one time at every word, and at the last word of the sentence, He hit him hard on the head, rage filling him. He didn't even care anymore.

When he looked down to the floor, at the lifeless bodies and the puddle of blood, the room was silent, so silent that he could hear his own short breaths.

He just committed murder. He just killed two people, barbarically, on a close range combat. And he had blood drips on his shirt that was splashed from the beating he just did. He is an assassin, but he never liked killing. That's why he used a bow and arrow. Makes it easier. This… is different.

"Clint." He finally heard the sweet voice of Natasha Romanoff calling. He knows that she knows how he feels right now. She knows how he hated killing, even when it comes to the most ruthless people on earth. He turned his head, and they spoke with their eyes, giving signals to each other.

Clint tried really hard not to break down and pour his own emotions all over Natasha, but he couldn't help it. The next thing he knew he was sinking his head on the crook of her shoulder, and she was rubbing his hair.

"I killed them." He gasped. "I killed them, Tasha. I−"

"I know, Clint." She shushed, dropping small kisses all over his face. His cheekbone, his forehead, his chin, his nose, and then his lips. "It's over now."

Clint pulled his body away from hers and watched her smile weakly at him, her hands cupping his jaw.

"No it's not. I have to get us out of here."

Natasha nodded, leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. "Go. I'll be alright."

Clint frowned in doubt, but he got up, broke the security camera by skillfully throwing a baseball bat at it, then stepping to the door, giving Natasha a last look before walking away to the hallway and pushing the door closed. Nothing but a pair of baseball bats in his hands. Being Hawkeye, he was blessed with a great sense of direction and therefore managed to make his way down the hallway, throwing his bat(s) on any security cameras he saw. The hallway was completely empty, until he passed two guards patrolling with body armor, threw both of his bats at them, knocking them unconscious, then stripping them from their body armors, putting on an armor for himself, tucking in the baseball bats on the pockets on his back, took both holsters with glocks and strapped it on his thighs, and carried a pair of AK-47s.

He walked down the rest of the hallway towards the double door. He ran through it and without a word shot the heck out of at least fifteen armed guards there. Those whom he caught off guard died right away, but some of them managed to shelter behind a wall or under the table.

He found a cover spot and ducked, waiting for any incoming attacks.

Somebody start shooting. He predicted it came from his 2 o clock. Without wasting a second, right after the shooting stopped Clint got up and quickly shot his shooter. One down. Two more men got up and shot at his direction, Clint tilted his body to avoid the bullets then shot two more men who came out from their hiding places.

He got a glimpse of the location of the door. The exit. This is it.

Clint got up and made a run, shooting any living being he caught even on the corner of the eye. Five people, he counted. He shot them all on the head without hesitating. He doesn't even care anymore. All he wanted now is to get the fuck away from here, and make sure Natasha is still alive.

He rushed into the door and found himself in the control room, dozens of tiny monitor screens filled the wall, some of them only showing "ERROR" on big red fonts, he assumed those are the ones he'd broken. There are three office chairs, but all of them are empty. He groaned noticing that the guards there must have escaped, and then quickly made his move closer to the panels on the wall, looking for which ones of them controlled the locks on Natasha's bind and chains.

He found a tiny label in white saying "locks" and pressed down the off button.

Clint ran as fast as he can, making his way back to where Natasha was held. He wrapped her in his coat, which was over sized for her and draped down to her mid thigh. She was only half conscious when he carried her and made their way out. As he walked out of the control room, he froze.

"You think it's that easy to walk out, Barton?"

Clint sighed in frustration, staring at a heavily armored army with various weapons pointed at them. On the middle, there stood a man with a sinister grin, sharp, remorseless eyes and a heavily disfigured face. It looks burned.

"What do you want from us?" Clint exclaimed.

"You know, for a moment we thought you were the only ones we can squeeze out information from, but we were luckier than that. Now we only wish to see you both suffer." The man in the middle scoffed. "But if death is the path you so chose, then so be it. It's beautiful to see how this would definitely end."

"Then torture me. Hell, kill me. But let her go. "

Clint glanced down at Natasha. She was completely unconscious now.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he never spoke a word.

In one motion every single man dropped down to the ground, dead.

Across from the pile of dead bodies, there stood May, Feng, and Tao, along with several other SHIELD agents.

May pressed a finger on her comm. "We need medic in hallway B level 1. Repeat, need medic in hallway B level 1."

Clint dropped to his knees, smiling gratefully at May but still frowning in worry. A team of medic rushed in the hallway soon after, taking Natasha with them. Clint watched as they carried her away.

"Barton." May called and he looked up. "She's gonna be alright."

Clint just nodded, exhausted. May offered a hand and helped him up, and they walked side by side away from the building. As May drove away Clint just dozed off, tired.

* * *

"Three broken ribs, cracked hipbone and cheekbone, head trauma from blunt object, and indication of multiple forced anal sexes and one vaginal rape, causing the rectum to be severely torn and suffering from irritation as well as internal bleeding. There are also bruises in thirty four different places, director." The doctor professionally said as he gave reports to Nick Fury, who was trying really hard not to flinch and cuss at the news.

He cleared his throat. "How about Barton?"

"A GW in the stomach. He's lucky that no vital organs were hit. It was a close call. But the wound was unprofessionally stitched with dental floss with the bullet unrevoked. We got it fixed. He's now recovering. Romanoff, however, will probably take a longer time to recover."

Nick Fury just nodded. "How's she doing now?"

"On intensive treatment. She will physically heal in at least three weeks."

"Alright−"

"Sir, I recommend that you also take notice on her psychological condition. After what she's been through, she might need one hell of a good therapist."

Fury frowned in worry. " Thank you for your suggestion. I will remember that, doctor."

The man nodded, gave him a sympathetic smile before he left.

Fury took a deep sigh, hoping that his best agents will be alright.


	7. Anger Release

**I totally have forgotten that I posted this story, honestly. But I got like few more chapters written down of it and I just reread everything I wrote today and was thinking like: "damn, this is pretty good (sorry for overconfidence ahaha), but it's also really dark, though."**

 **so I'm thanking bibliographicfangirl for reminding me that this story still exists! and thanks for liking it!**

 **Also, be free to write a review and commentary, also suggestions if you wish to see anything happen. I'm a free thinker and this story is still in progress anyway.**

 **WARNING FOR HARDCORE SMUT...**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

It's been two months.

It's been two fucking months, and Clint hasn't even seen Natasha, not even by a glimpse. He tried facing Fury several times but the director always send him away, after realizing that changing the topic or sending Clint off to small missions is not enough. Clint also tried to get help from Hill, Tony, and Bruce, but none of them managed to get him anywhere near a progress. Hill, remaining loyal to the director as always, refused to help him with a polite apology. Stark hacked into SHIELD's security system but found nothing. Bruce is not good with words and he's a biologist, so what he did was just give Fury a useless phone call, which was easily responded by a big "NO" from Fury. His last hope was Steve. As reluctant as he is. Seeing Captain America always makes him nervous, and the fact that Steve has been working with Tasha pretty often before the incident gives Clint some sort of an anxiety.

"I've heard about what happened." Steve said with a deep look, staring down into Clint's eyes. "Is she alright?"

"Um, I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out. Fury won't let me see her."

Steve cocked a brow. "Why?"

"I don't know, dude. That's why I'm worried." Clint looked away, nervous by Cap's stature and slightly emasculated by his height and persona.

"Well she seems alright." Steve shrugged.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, we were sent on a small mission about two days ago. A level 3. She asked for an easy one and I agreed. So Hill gave us that mission. I assume it's because she just recovered and still needs time to get back on shape−"

"Two days?"

"Yes." He nodded. "We didn't talk much but she looks just like usual. But who knows?"

Clint clenched his fists. "Thanks, Steve." He walked away, furious.

Steve was about to ask Clint why was he so disturbed and worried, but Clint already walked away and boy, do he looked pissed. So Steve decided to just shrug it off and returned to his previous activity; sparring with a punching bag.

"Why the fuck won't you let me see her? It's been two months, for God's sakes! And she's my partner! PARTNER! We've been partners for what, like, nine years now. I think I have a right to see her more than anybody else on this planet. Hell, even the whole galaxy. After what happened, Fury, I think the only right choice is to give her a chance to search for some comfort. She needs me and you know it."

Fury rubbed his palm against his forehead, decided to just completely let go the fact that his subordinate just disrespectfully rant at him. He stared blankly at Clint from his seat across the table. " I think you might have overvalued yourself, Agent Barton."

"Where IS SHE?" Clint exclaimed, breathless in anger.

Nick Fury sighed, tangling his fingers together and leaned on his elbows on the table. " I'm sorry but you just can't see her."

"Why? Tell me why."

"Look, you−" Fury looked up and quietly said, "believe me all you want but it's agent Romanoff's request. She specifically told me to tell you that you cannot see her."

Clint stared at Fury in shock, disbelief. He just looked at Fury, searching for any sign of lie. This can't be true. It's too odd to be true.

"Because you keep nagging my ass like this, I suppose I can cut you some slack. You can see her, but in your own consequence." He ripped off a piece of paper from his notebook on the desk and started writing something on it. He passed it down quickly on the table and Clint picked it up. It's an address.

Frowning in question, he looked up at Fury.

"She just got herself a new apartment." Fury said.

"Thank you. Thank you so much, director."

* * *

Natasha dropped her body onto her new bed, and closed her eyes. It's been very hard for her to go to sleep lately, she's been having nightmares. She just doesn't feel like talking to anybody. She thinks Fury is an asshole for sending her to take mandatory sessions with a therapist every day, although deep down she knows that Fury only meant it for her own good. But for God's sakes, she knows she's fine. Everybody must think that she's not, but she is. She just needs time to be alone. To rethink everything that had happened. Every mistake she has ever done, every single action.

There's a knock on the door.

Natasha's eyes jolted open and she got up from the bed with a guarded position out of habit. She swore in Russian as she stared at the door and started walking. What now? She just wanted to be alone. Her new renter, an early twenties, hatchet faced Mexican man with a subtle accent, obviously shows interest on her, and he's been giving her flowers during the past few days. And Natasha hates it. Thoroughly.

"Eduardo, I told you I don't like roses−" She stopped, leaving her mouth open for a moment. Her whole body froze to the sight before her.

It was Clint, with a mixture of worry, seriousness, anger, and tenderness at the same time on his face. He looks like he hasn't shaved for a while, his rough stubble showing. And his bronze colored hair, which usually is always on point, now messy. And he looks like he hasn't slept for a while, too.

"We need to talk." That's what he said as Natasha just stood there and did nothing. It really is a rare chance to catch Natasha Romanoff being speechless and less banter-y, since she usually is really good at arguments and manipulating.

Natasha looked down to her own feet, avoiding his stare. She however, stepped away from the entrance and Clint walked in. She leaned her back by the door to close it slowly and stayed there, staring at his back until he turned to face her.

"When did you get out of the hospital?"

She slowly looked up, to his eyes. "About two weeks ago."

Clint frowned, like he was holding in a rage. "Are you okay?"

Natasha didn't answer that one. "I thought Fury was supposed to be good at keeping secrets."

Clint didn't answer that, either. He just looked around, and an awkward silence filled the atmosphere around them. She kept looking down as she heard Clint's small footsteps around her living room.

Clint gasped and was about to say something as she started mumbling "I−", causing her to stop saying what she was about to say. But unfortunately Clint stopped too. So the two of them found themselves looking at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Jesus, Nat. I was freaking out. I−I thought Fury was hiding you from me because there's something wrong with you−"

She ran her fingers through her crimson hair as she sighed, "I'm fine Clint. I am."

"Then why did you tell Fury to not let me see you?" Clint kept glaring at her, searching for her eyes but she's still not looking back.

Natasha walked across the room, going past him. Clint followed her into her room, but stayed at the doorway and watched as she took a pill from a tiny box then took in a glass of water from her bedside table. She was wearing an over sized t-shirt and sweatpants, but somehow she managed to still look so attractive to his eyes. He shook off that thought.

"Tasha?"

She closed her eyes, raised her head up facing the ceiling. "I can't. I can't see you Clint."

"Why?"

"I just can't."

"Oh come on. You decided to go on a mission with Rogers two days ago."

Now Natasha looked at him sharply, squinting. "We can't afford to have jealously in our line of work."

"You told me you love me that time. Did you mean it or did you just say it to cheer me up?"

"I never lied to you. I never had and I never will."

"We're partners, Natasha. I've trusted you for a long time. Of course I knew that."

She shook her head. "I asked Fury to be reassigned somewhere else. He's supposed to break it to you next week but you're here now so, yeah."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"That we're not partners anymore."

"So what are we then?" Clint snapped, stepping forward.

"I don't know."

"You don't know? After all we've been through together? I spared your life and took you away from KGB. I saved your life so many times I can't count it. You saved my life so many times you can't count it. You gave me back my consciousness after Loki brainwashed me. We took down terrorist organizations together, we fought aliens, we hacked in the world's best security systems. We covered each other's asses. We slept together in Budapest. We know each other more than we know anyone else. I trusted you. I LOVE you. And yet you just want to drop it all now? Just like that? At least tell me why."

She looked away and bit her lip.

That awkward silence came again.

After a while, the thing that finally broke it was just the sound of her quietly sobbing. Clint wanted to reach for her and hold her, but all he did was just stand at the door, rigid and frustrated.

"What do you want from me?" She asked weakly, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I don't know. Admit that you feel the same?"

"Well I do."

"Great then."

"Now go."

"Why should I?"

She stared up at him and walked towards him, pushing him by the chest, hard but still careful and controlled. "Don't test my patience, Barton."

Clint's body trembled in anger he's been holding for so long. "You've been testing mine." He took her upper arms and grasped them so tight as he pushed her fast to the wall behind her, causing a surprised gasp from her. Staring mad at him, she kicked him hard in the gut, making him stagger back. She was surprised by her own action, but never the less, still mad. So she just stood there, waiting for Clint's reaction. The man is still bending down, holding his stomach.

But then Clint swiftly stood again, aiming a punch to her face. It threw Natasha to the bed, growling in anger and kicking him on the face as he was trying to pull her down from the bed.

Clint groaned, blood running down his nose. He wiped it on his shoulder's sleeve. Panting in anger and pain, they stared at each other, intently and ferociously. Natasha's still sitting on the bed, her left cheekbone gaping red. Clint's standing next to the bed, nose red and upper lip covered with blood residue.

"Come on." She challenged. "Hit me."

Clint still stared at her, unmoving.

"HIT ME!"

Clint jumped at her and they wrestled on the bed, crumpling the white neat sheet into a complete mess, along with accidentally breaking the bedside lamp on the process. At the end their bodies were tangled up, Clint pulling Natasha's hair with one hand, their fingers wrapped with one another's and arm spread to the side with the other, Natasha was lying on her back under him, but her legs wrapped separately on each of his legs. They were now undeniably exhausted, faces red in both anger and drained energy.

His brown eyes met her green ones. They didn't spend one second away from each other's stare. They just kept staring, and Natasha's not sure who started first, but she found themselves grinding with each other and she slowly loosened her grip from his legs and all of the sudden she found Clint's hand stroking her hair, cupping her head, and his other one still meddled with hers, supporting his body as he thrust his crotch against hers, she moaned at the feeling of his erection growing. They found a steady pace and she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms on his back. She wanted to fuck him. Fuck the hell out of him; make him come so hard his sack goes dry for days. When she opened her eyes, she found Clint staring at her, undeniably angry and aroused at the same time. He took his hand away from her hair, moving a finger to curl up on her shirt's neck, and before she could think, he ripped the front side open, exposing her bra-less swell breasts. He cupped one in his hand, massaging it harder than he needs to be, rubbing the nipple then sucking it so hard that she moaned so loudly she's sure the whole building would hear. But she doesn't care. She ripped Clint's shirt from the back, and scratched her nails on his bare back, drawing blood. Clint moaned and grunted at the same time, and he bit her nipple, throwing her aback that she pushed him away from her body. Clint threw himself to a sitting position. Natasha dragged herself to the edge of the bed. As they stared at each other, they both know they're still not finished expressing their anger.

Clint yanked his pants off along with his boxer in one motion, and Natasha did the same about the same time he did. What happened next is they went for each other, both kneeling at the middle of the bed; hungrily, angrily, barbarically shared a wet, hot, dirty kiss, wrapped their arms around each other and bodies brushing together. They pulled each other's faces greedily, trying to savor as much as they can in the kiss. Natasha reached down, taking his length in her hands as she directed it to her opening, causing them both to gasp at the same time at the sensation. Yet their mouths didn't part even for a second, until Natasha threw her head back, hissing and cursing as Clint took her ass cheeks with his palms and forced a whole new pace.

"I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you." He sucked on her neck. Natasha tangled a leg over his waist to give him access to thrust deeper. She moaned hard as he slapped her ass cheek.

Staring angrily at him, she pushed him down on his back so she got in control, and she picked her own pace and rode him hard, leaving Clint staring in awe, a perfect "O" shaped on his mouth.

"That's all you got huh, bitch?"

"You like it. You know you like it." Natasha smiled gloriously.

Clint caught her bouncing breasts in his hands, and pulled her nipples as hard as he could. Natasha moaned loud, really loud.

"You fucking bastard, I'm gonna milk you dry. Make you come so hard in me." She hissed.

"Oh yeah? You gonna fuck me hard? I'm gonna fuck you harder." Clint grinned mischievously; thumb tweaking a hard nipple, letting her ride his length for a while longer.

He then made a fast move, wrapping his arms around her torso and carried her as he got up, staggering a little bit as he adjusted to her weight, and he walked them to the living room, dropping her to the floor, pulling her out from him. His erection standing obvious, his length hard and slick with her wetness. He turned her to her hands and knees, before sliding in inside her again. It all happened so fast she didn't have a chance to say anything about it.

She tried hard to keep her body balanced now that she's got Clint bending over her and pumping inside her harder than she ever thought he could ever be. The room smells like sex, they're both heavily perspiring, making animal noises and she can hear much too loudly the sound of his balls slapping against her pussy. Her fingers screeched on the floor, and she swore and moaned, so loud it filled the whole apartment. And Clint is moaning back, swearing and yelling at her;she's 100% sure the whole building could probably hear them.

"Remember this, you little fuck?" Clint pounded deep inside her.

Natasha growled. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, little shit."

"You like it, huh? You like it so bad you don't want me to stop. "

Natasha replied with a moan. Angry, she kicked him away, again, and crawled herself back up to stand. She attacked his lips with a deep kiss, wrapping her arm violently on his neck, sloppily walking them to the kitchen and sat by the edge of the counter, spreading her legs wide. She stared lustfully at Clint's gleaming length. He wasted no time and slid back inside her, now deeper and faster than ever.

"Come." He encouraged her, a thumb reaching down and rubbing at her clit.

Natasha cursed in Russian, trying hard to keep her balance as Clint thrusts harder inside her, if that's even possible. He's been hitting that spot. That pleasure spot only a few people has ever hit before.

"No, you come, you motherfucker."

Clint laughed sarcastically, his hair wet with sweat. "I'm not a pussy. Gotta finish the job first." He sunk his head down her chest and sucked on her nipple, his tongue vigorously licking on its sensitive end.

"Oh fuck." Natasha dug deep to his back.

She felt that familiar feeling. Clint's cock is now throbbing inside her.

"Oh yeah. Come, baby, come." She teased in his ear, biting his earlobe lightly.

"Not until you come first." Clint gasped.

She pants. "I'm close. Very close."

"Me too." He nodded, rising his head back up, and on contrary to this whole sex had been going, he put their foreheads together, and they both moaned at the same time as they came, together. Clint was still thrusting during the whole process, savoring all the pleasure they had left.

At the end, they took a moment to just let their selves catch a breath, their whole body wet with sweat and come. Natasha came so hard that her juices flood out and dripped down from the counter to the floor, bringing part of Clint's come along too. Clint frowned at the realization that he never came this hard in his life before.

"So _that_ just happened." He found himself caressing her hair.

He felt as Natasha gave him a small nod, then she chuckled in irony. "We came together."

"Yeah, we did. That's pretty awesome, huh?"

"Mm-hm." She tilted her face and moved it forward to kiss him. He kissed her back. This kiss is different. It's sweet, and tired, and innocent, and loving. It's the sweetest and purest part of Natasha.

"You still leaving me?" He sighed between the kiss and he felt Natasha shaking her head.

"So what do we do now?" He asked, slipping out of her. Natasha caught his arm and stood up. Both of them know that whatever anger they had against each other, it can wait.

"Sleep with me." She bit her lip, guiding them towards the bedroom, throwing herself on the bed under the blankets.

Without hesitation, Clint followed, lying next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies together. He shut his eyes, trying to sleep.

He finally got the peaceful sleep he wanted.


	8. By The Window

**Hello! To the anonymous, thank you for the review! Here's a chapter to fill the gap before we get going to the main plot. I have a lot of things planned, but it'll take some time before I post them. I promise I'm gonna keep writing though!**

* * *

Clint blinked, found himself staring at the unfamiliar empty ceiling with a quick realization that he's not currently in his own apartment. He's in Natasha's. He reached for her side of the bed, hoping to find the warmth of her skin so he could hold her close. His eyes widened when he realized there was nothing there but empty sheets.

It was still dark, but the moonlight and streetlights were shining through the windows, giving him a dim image of what his surrounding looks like for the first time. Clothes scattered all over her floor, and he made a frown as he passed through the broken bedside lamp. He finally found Natasha sitting on the window frame of her living room, leaning to the glass with her bare, toned legs bent, her petite figure blocking the lights coming in the living room. As he stepped closer he noticed that she was wearing what looks like an oversized sweater, but aside from that she was still as naked as he was.

Without a word said, she glanced up at him and her lips formed a thin smile.

Clint sighed. He's known her for nine years. Nine fucking years. They've basically been through everything together, and he knows that she would sometimes wake up at times like these from her nightmares. He would, too; he has his own demons. They both have too dark of pasts to allow them to sleep peacefully at night; no one but each other to understand the other's condition.

She hugged her legs around her arms to give him place to sit in front of her. He did, at first with nothing but silence between them. But she knew he would ask. He always does. That's how much he cares.

"What about?" His voice was deep, low and musky, his hazel eyes searching into hers with concern.

She let out a sigh. "I take it you won't take 'nothing' as your answer."

"Damn right I won't."

Her foot slid along the wooden frame, touching the edge of his toes, then she wordlessly lifted her feet and brushed it along his calves, smoothly, intimately; but oddly not at all sexual. She didn't look at him when she said, "You were there. And you were dead."

"Yeah? How did I die?"

She bit her lips as they trembled with fear. Clint frowned with worry.

"Natasha, it's okay. Tell me."

"Dan killed you."

"Who's Dan?"

"The other person who raped me besides Bolt."

"Oh." He fell quiet for a moment; horrific memories of what he did to the bastards two months ago suddenly slipped in his mind and sent him to a wave of distress. "But they're dead now. I…ended them."

"I know." She murmured. "But it felt so real. Like I was there and it was really happening but there's nothing I could do about it."

"C'mere." He gestured with his head and open arms for her to scoot closer to him. She did; falling to his arms and resting her head on his chest, curling up with his limbs bending to cover her, shielding her from her pain and fear.

"I'm sorry for thinking about leaving you. Thank you for coming after me."

"I'll follow you even to the edge of the earth, Nat."

"Cheesy." She let out a chuckle.

"That was not a line."

"Sounds like one, though."

He wrapped his arms around her tighter. "What can I say to convince you?"

"You don't have to convince me anything. I know everything."

He planted a kiss to her forehead. "That is true…sometimes."

She bit her lip and attacked his mouth with a playful kiss and a smile. "Don't you dare underestimate me, Barton."

He laughed and kissed her back, placing his hands on either side of her waist as she moved to kneel in front of him, her palms cupping his cheeks while his legs wrapped around her pelvis to drag her closer. A playful kiss soon turned into a passionate one, a kiss so tender she swore she's drowning in it. When they parted for air, she glanced down and smirked at his protruding hardness between them. "Hello, there, little buddy."

"Little buddy? _Little buddy_? Seriously?" Clint groped each of her ass cheeks and sat her down, her legs spread wide and tangled around his waist. She gasped when she felt his hardness pressing along her slit.

She kissed him again. "Well, he's not that little. He's quite…sizable," He moaned when she rubbed herself against him. "Substantially satisfying… but I'm not sure." She whispered seductively in his ear, causing him to buck his hips against hers. "Shall we take this little guy for a spin?"

"Natasha," he scoffed. " You are sensually annoying."

She bit on his earlobe and hummed. "But that's why you love me."

He picked her up and slowly dropped her to the floor, guiding his length and slowly sinking himself into her, both of them moaning pleasurably from the sensation the other is giving.

So here they were, making love on the cold hardwood floor; moving in a rhythm that harmonized so perfectly it took them back to the moment they shared in Budapest, right when they realized that they belonged so perfectly, fit so perfectly. Of course it wasn't graceful; there's never anything graceful about sex; it's messy, sweaty, loud and it smells, but it is also humanly perfect; the imperfectly perfect ecstasy to have. And to be here with each other, knowing that they love the sole being of one another; is another kind ecstasy.

He trailed kisses up from the space on her neck to her chin when her body squirmed and she moaned her release, and just with the sight Clint knew he was reaching the edge too; coming right inside her while she pulled him by the back so their chests were pressed together. It ended with a kiss, the long, loving kind.

"Barton, you're in for one hell of a ride." She whispered softly with a joyful smile.

He kissed her again. "Everything works as long as I can be with you, right?"

"I guess."


End file.
